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ghoulsbounty · 3 months

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Friend of the Devil

Lee Russell x Gamby!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), office sex, oral (f receiving), face riding, interrupted fun times, cursing, angst, Lee is mean (but soft), secret relationship, power dynamics, power play, slight mentions of sub/dom, childish sibling relationship, competitive nature, frenemies, fluff/happy ending.

Word Count: 6.3K

A/N: Here's the Lee part to this anon's other request! I took a while going back and forth with this because I wanted to focuse on how Lee's personality affects everybody, and readers relationship/how you fit into that and in turn have effected him. There's a few Gamby sister requests similar to this going around, so I wanted to do something different but still follow the request. I hope you enjoy! I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

The lunchroom was alive with a vibrant cacophony of voices and the rhythmic clatter of trays, the air thick and rich with the mingled aromas of cafeteria offerings—overcooked vegetables, processed meats, and the ever-present scent of reheated pizza. Fluorescent lights flickered slightly overhead, casting a harsh glow over the busy scene. Teachers gathered in their usual enclaves, finding solace and camaraderie amidst the relentless pace of school life. At the corner table, under a particularly noisy air vent, a spirited discussion took place, the latest school gossip providing a welcome escape from the relentless mountains of essays to grade and detailed lesson plans to refine.

Ms. Abbott, always the central figure in these lunchtime exchanges, leaned forward with a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't look now, but here comes Tweedle-Dee," she whispered, her voice a blend of amusement and mock secrecy. Her comment ignited a ripple of subdued laughter that spread through the group. Eager heads turned discreetly, their curiosity piqued, all wanting a glimpse of the person who had become the unwitting protagonist of Ms. Abbott’s playful narrative.

Approaching with a brisk, almost frantic stride was Lee Russell. His attire, a meticulously tailored suit paired with gleaming shoes, barely concealed the unmistakable tension he carried. Since his promotion to principal, Russell had swiftly gained the unfortunate distinction of being the least favoured among the faculty. His unpredictable and often heavy-handed leadership style had alienated many.

"He must be lost without Tweedle-Dum," Ms. Abbott remarked, her voice laced with a sharp edge of sarcasm.

Seychelle, always ready to add drama to any conversation, pounced on the opportunity. "He and Gamby were so far up each other's asses they could tickle each other's tonsils," he declared, his smirk broadening as he theatrically adjusted his silk scarf, draping it back over his shoulder. The group burst into laughter, a sound filled with both genuine amusement and a cathartic release from their collective disdain. "I heard he's returning soon, so maybe it will put his boyfriend in a better mood," Seychelle added, his tone dripping with irony.

As the laughter reverberated around the table, a sudden hush descended when you cleared your throat—a soft yet unmistakable signal of a presence they had momentarily forgotten. Seychelle, caught mid-chuckle, turned as the directed gazes of his colleagues guided him to meet your eyes. Seated right beside him, you were struggling to suppress your own mirth.

"Oh, sorry, Miss Gamby," Seychelle stuttered, his usual confidence slipping as he managed an apologetic smile.

You nodded, acknowledging his apology while your mind briefly wandered to your brother, Neal, and his infamous collaboration with Lee Russell. Together, they had orchestrated a reign filled with both mischief and mismanagement, becoming the stuff of legend at North Jackson High School. Now, with Neal's absence, Russell appeared more adrift than ever—an observation that had not escaped the keen, sometimes merciless eyes of the faculty.

"It's fine," you said reassuringly, prodding the homemade leftovers in your container with a fork. "My brother's an asshole, but Lee Russell is the fucking devil."

The group chuckled, the tension melting away as they eased back into their conversations. You let out a sigh, then heard the distinct click of Prada shoes on the linoleum and the wafting, fruity scent of cologne—signals of the principal’s approach. Setting down your fork, you looked up just in time to see Lee Russell stop beside your table. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," you quipped with a tight smile.

Lee ignored the light-hearted jab, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized your lunch. "What the fuck is that?" he demanded, pointing at your container. "Is this what poor people eat?" His words cut through the resumed chatter, casting a silence over the table.

You rolled your eyes, your gaze taking in his perfectly tailored suit and meticulously styled hair—the stark contrast between his polished appearance and his coarse behaviour never failed to amaze you. "I don't know, Lee," you retorted, your voice mocking. "You pay my wages, so you tell me."

Russell's eyes flashed with irritation as a sneer formed on his lips. "Maybe if you spent less time eating garbage like a fuckin' pig and more time doing your job, we wouldn't have so many problems," he snapped.

Taking a moment, you looked around the cafeteria, observing the other teachers quietly watching the exchange, the rambunctious students that ignored it, then turned your weary gaze back to him. "It's lunchtime, Lee. Even school staff need to eat," you stated flatly, emphasizing the obvious.

Ms. Abbott's snigger echoed across the table, momentarily lightening the atmosphere until Lee's sharp glare silenced her amusement. Ignoring her, he leaned forward, pressing his knuckles against the table and fixing his gaze on you with an intensity that felt almost tangible. "Since when did you become so goddamn fuckin' familiar? It's Principal Russell to you," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "And it's lunchtime when I say it's lunchtime. You get your ass in my office and finish writing that grant proposal that was due this morning, or you'll be so fuckin' fired that dogshit will seem like a Michelin star recipe to you. Understood?"

You met his stare unflinchingly, the tension at the table palpable. You knew the importance of picking your battles, especially under the watchful eyes of your colleagues. "Understood, Principal Russell," you responded, your voice calm and measured.

Lee's smug expression deepened as he surveyed the now quiet group. "Good," he spat out, his tone dripping with contempt, pleased with his perceived control over the situation.

Mrs. Deets, unable to contain her dismay, addressed him directly, her voice filled with concern and a hint of defiance. "Don't you think you're being unfair, Russell?" she asked, her eyes flicking briefly to you in sympathy. "You've been loading Miss Gamby with extra work for weeks, and now you're disrupting her lunch break," she continued, her expression frustrated.

Her intervention brought a momentary pause, the air thick as everyone awaited Russell's response, wondering whether it would temper his approach or incite further harshness.

Lee's eyes hardened, turning towards Mrs. Deets with a menacing glint. "And what are you going to do? Report me to HR?" he taunted, his voice thick with arrogance. "I'd like to see you try. They're all in my pocket, just like you should be." His eyes narrowed as he scanned the table, issuing a silent challenge to anyone daring to contest his authority. The table fell silent under his gaze.

With a final sneer, he turned on his heel and strode away, the authoritative click of his polished shoes echoing ominously through the lunchroom. The oppressive atmosphere lingered for a moment before gradually dissipating, leaving displeasure behind but also a sense of unity among the faculty. They exchanged looks that communicated a shared resolve; something would need to change, but carefully and strategically, to avoid the fallout of a direct confrontation with a man who held too much power and too little regard for others.

Gathering your things, you stood and glanced around at the sympathetic faces of your fellow teachers. "Just another day at North Jackson," you remarked, trying to lighten the mood. You gave Mrs. Deets a grateful nod for her support. "Thanks for trying, Val," you added sincerely. Then, with a resigned breath, you turned and headed towards Lee's office, your mind already strategizing for the confrontation ahead and the careful navigation it would require.

Rounding the reception desk, you greeted Miss Swift with a nod, your eyes briefly scanning toward the office behind her. The blinds were tightly drawn, and the muffled sound of Russell's frustrated rant seeped through the closed door. Miss Swift met your gaze with a look of caution. "He's just got back," she whispered, her tone hushed. "He's been in a real bad mood all day. Made me cancel all his appointments and said he was going to tell Superintendent Haas to—well, it wasn't very nice."

You offered her a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, Janice. You know he's always got a stick up his butt about something," you reassured her, your casual words drawing a reluctant smile from her. "You go have some lunch. I've got this." With a confident nod, you prepared yourself and approached the door to Russell's office, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Lee Russell's voice was sharp as he commanded you to close the door, his tone betraying the strain of the day. As you shut the door behind you, the office felt suffocatingly small, filled with the tension that seemed to emanate from the man hunched over his desk.

Standing a respectable distance away, you maintained a neutral tone, despite the stress in the air. "You wanted to see me, Principal Russell?" you asked, watching as he slowly lifted his face from his hands, revealing a weary expression that briefly flickered to surprise, perhaps not expecting your calm demeanour. You waited, poised for his response, ready to discuss the grant proposal or whatever else he deemed urgent enough to interrupt your lunch. Deep down, you understood the true reason for this meeting, yet you couldn't deny the thrill it added to the encounter when you pretended otherwise.

"I don't have time for your smart-ass remarks today," he grumbled, slumping back into his chair with his legs spread wide. He shot you a pitiful glance, his face etched with frustration. "Everything's falling apart, and you're too busy cozying up to my damn enemies to be of any help." His voice was a blend of desperation and resentment, the anger he had shown earlier in the cafeteria now reduced to a needy whine.

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at his dramatics as you circled his desk, perching on its edge right in front of him. "They're my colleagues, Lee—your staff—and we need to keep things normal without you losing it and threatening me in front of everyone in the cafeteria," you said calmly, fully aware that it would take more to alleviate his irritation as he rolled his eyes.

"Losing it?" He scoffed, fixing you with a pointed look. "You've seen nothing yet. I'd line them all up and send them packing one by one, like a damn firing squad execution. The faculty are a massive pain in my ass; they're all fucking replaceable." His words were sharp and icy, each one a dagger designed to intimidate and belittle—something he excelled at.

The harshness of his tone left no doubt about his contempt for his colleagues, his disregard for their contributions painfully clear. This wasn't the first time you had heard such sentiments from him—it was merely the latest in a series of similar tirades. Lee had fought his way to the position of principal with a tenacity and fierceness that appeared limitless. His impulsive nature and propensity to act without thinking through the consequences often left you as the one trying to reel him back from the brink, attempting to mitigate the fallout of his decisions before they escalated into full-blown crises.

Lee's relentless ambition had fostered a toxic atmosphere, one rife with fear and uncertainty. Each time he went into a downward spiral, the responsibility fell on you to curb his impulsive decisions and soften the impact. The stress and exhaustion were evident on your colleagues' faces, their morale dwindling under Lee's oppressive leadership. You had cautioned him that maintaining friendships would be challenging once he held power over others, but he had dismissed your concerns, preoccupied instead with choosing the ideal carpet colour for his opulent new office. His priorities, it seemed, were focused more on appearances than on the well-being of his staff.

"Oh, really? And what will you do with nine hundred students and no one to teach them?" you questioned, going along with his rant. A bemused smile played at the corners of your lips, reflecting both amusement and scepticism at his drastic solutions.

"I'd hire new ones, ones who actually listen and respect me. Start fresh, a clean slate without those fuckin' assholes," he replied, his determination evident in the firm set of his jaw. When you laughed, he nudged your leg gently with his knee, showing a rare moment of playfulness amidst his tirade. "Might keep you, though," he mumbled, his tone softening slightly.

"Really? I thought I was the first on your list to go," you teased, your eyes twinkling with mischief. "Wasn't there something about firing me? Something about dogshit tasting good?"

He rolled his eyes again, his frustration melting into a reluctant smile. He scooted his chair closer to you and leaned forward, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your skirt. "I didn't mean it," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with regret. It seemed as if the gravity of his own words had caught him off guard.

Apologies from him were rare, like the fleeting glimpses of vulnerability he feared showing, lest they be exploited. His public outbursts had intensified since your brother's absence, leaving you to bear the brunt of his sharp tongue. The weight of his words felt heavier, cutting deeper as if to compensate for the missing target. Meanwhile, the staff's insubordination had increased, emboldened by the shifting dynamics.

Despite your frequent reminders that the tough façade wasn't as necessary without Neal around, Lee remained resolute in his approach. His determination to show the faculty that you were just another annoyance, merely another Gamby sibling he had to tolerate, was unwavering. He carried himself with an air of cold authority, a mask firmly in place to shield any sign of weakness, even if it meant pushing you further away.

Yet, you found yourself falling for him during every stolen moment in his office. Each encounter, hidden from the prying eyes of the world, unveiled the layers beneath his hardened exterior. The soft whispers, the fleeting touches, and the rare, unguarded smiles slowly revealed a side of him that was vulnerable and aching. Over time, you convinced yourself that Lee Russell was a deeply flawed man whom you could fix.

You watched his hand as it slipped beneath the hem of your skirt, tracing a gentle path along your thigh. You halted his advance by placing your hand over his, confronting his surprised look with a firm gaze of your own. "That's not how this works," you asserted clearly.

He let out a dramatic sigh and reclined in his chair, eyes shifting upwards to the stained ceiling tiles. "Do we have to go through this every time?" he asked, his voice laced with an unmistakable air of arrogance as he nudged his chair to swivel slightly with his feet.

"If you want to fuck me, then yes, we absolutely do," you responded, your tone flat and matter-of-fact. Your hands clutched the edges of the desk tightly, ready for whatever might follow. Observing him closely, you noted the visible struggle on his face as he prepared to speak, a battle of emotions that ended with him throwing his hands up in evident annoyance.

"Fine, fuck," he sighed, "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that you made me shout at you," he mumbled, leaning forward in his chair and placing his hands on your knees. "There, are you happy now, you fucking cretin?" His gaze bore into yours with an intense mixture of annoyance and something deeper, something almost vulnerable. His eyes searched yours, seeking a reaction, a connection, while his rough words contrasted sharply with the tenderness of his touch.

You smiled down at him, a hint of satisfaction playing on your lips as your resolve waned. Casually, you draped both legs over the sides of his chair, your feet resting on either side of his legs. The room seemed to close in around you, the tension thick in the air as you held his gaze, challenging him silently while his hands remained on your knees..

Lee smirked, his eyes darkening with desire as he pushed your skirt higher up your thighs until it bunched at your waist, exposing more of your skin to the cool air. He hummed in appreciation at the sight of your panties, the fabric already darkening with the wetness that the tease of his fingers drew from you. The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity, the raw hunger evident in his eyes making your heart race and your breath hitch. His hands, resting back on your knees, gripped a little tighter, the possessiveness in his touch sending shivers down your spine.

Your skin prickled under his touch as he trailed soft kisses along your legs, from the inside of your knee to your thigh, until the curve of his nose pressed deliciously against your heat. You gasped, your hips involuntarily seeking more pressure from him, but he pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory gleam.

He sat back, his gaze intense as his hand slid up your inner thigh. Two fingers hooked behind the fabric of your underwear, swiping through your slick folds, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You moaned as both fingers pressed against your entrance, the sensation electrifying. Lee's other hand pushed at your knee, spreading your legs wider, ensuring you were perfectly displayed for him.

His eyes roamed over you hungrily, the anticipation building as you felt the heat of his desire in his touch. Every sensation amplified, your body responding eagerly to his every move, you gasped into the silence of the room when his fingers finally filled you, buried to the knuckle, as he began to pump them in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. You leaned back against the desk on your elbows, head thrown back in pleasure, rutting your hips against him to encourage a faster speed.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp thwack against the fat of your thigh, his hand coming down hard and grabbing at the tender flesh. "Stay still. Don't be so fuckin' impatient, damn," he scolded, his voice a low growl, the command making your throat burn. The sting of his slap mingled with the pleasure from his fingers, heightening your arousal as you lifted your head to look at him. His eyes bore into yours, a dominance there that made your pulse race even faster. The room seemed to spin as you struggled to obey, your body craving more even as you tried to remain still under his intense scrutiny.

"Maybe I should fire you. Can't take a simple instruction, can you? What use are you to me?" he taunted, his words cutting through you in a deliciously cruel way. The sting of his tone only deepened your need, a twisted thrill running through you at his harsh command. His fingers continued their slow, torturous rhythm, and you fought to keep still, every fibre of your being wanting to both submit to and defy him.

You bit your tongue, staring up at the office ceiling. There was so much you wanted to say, but you knew it would only lead to arguments and, ultimately, not getting what you craved. So, you stayed silent. Instead, you adjusted yourself, laying your back flat against the desk and wriggling slightly when a stapler dug into your hip.

Once you settled, you slid one hand down your body until you reached the bunched-up skirt. Hooking two fingers around your panties, you pulled them aside to give him better access. The rush of cool, air-conditioned air hitting your hot pussy sent a shiver up your spine as you bared yourself completely to him. You watched his reaction, noting the way his eyes clouded, his breath catching slightly at the sight of you exposed and vulnerable before him.

The desk felt cold and hard beneath you, a stark contrast to the heat building between your legs. Every nerve in your body tingled with anticipation, the raw need to be touched and filled consuming your thoughts. The only sounds the hum of the air conditioner and the ragged breathing shared between you. You could feel his gaze like a physical touch, every second of his hesitation adding to the delicious torment.

As you lay there, fully exposed and waiting for his next move, your heart pounded in your chest. The thrill with Lee was always in the battle of wills, the way you both enjoyed the shifting power dynamic. Each moment was a tantalizing dance of dominance and submission, need and restraint.

You knew the hold you had over him, a card you kept close to your chest and only played when necessary. Yet, you loved watching him fall apart for you. His tough exterior and harsh words melted away in these intimate moments, revealing a vulnerability that was yours to command.

You could see the internal struggle on his face, the conflict between his need to dominate and the pleasure he derived from you taking what you wanted. It was a delicate balance, one you both played to perfection. As he finally leaned in, his fingers resuming their slow, torturous rhythm, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that in this intricate dance, you held the upper hand.

His nose to your pussy, he breathed you in deeply, his fingers moving with deliberate slowness. You arched your back slightly, simultaneously grinding down onto his fingers and pressing into the bridge of his nose, your own breath coming in shallow gasps. The world outside ceased to exist, the only reality the intense connection between you two.

His hand tightened on your thigh, a silent command for you to stay still, but the gleam in his eyes as he looked up at you told you he relished your defiance. The raw desire in his gaze, the possessiveness of his touch, everything about this moment was intoxicating. As his fingers continued their relentless teasing, you felt the tension building, the delicious anticipation of what was to come.

Lee groaned at the sight of you, soaking wet and dripping just for him. Ever since his first taste, he couldn't get enough. He had lost his mind when you came on his tongue for the first time, practically riding his face to get the pressure exactly where you needed it. Lee loved that you used him for your own pleasure and revelled in using you for his, only to go about his day as if he hadn’t just had you bent over his desk and buried himself deep inside you.

His fingers quickened their pace, sliding in and out of you with practiced ease, each movement eliciting a soft moan from your lips. He watched you intently, his eyes dark with lust as you ran one hand over the swell of your breasts, pinching your nipple through the thin fabric of your blouse just hard enough to send a jolt down to your core. The scent of your arousal filled the air, mingling with the faint smell of your perfume and the cigarette that he had moments before approaching you in the cafeteria, creating an intoxicating blend that drove him wild.

"You like this, don't you?" he muttered, his voice low and rough. "Being spread out on my desk, ready for me to take you whenever I want."

You responded with a gasp, your hips lifting to meet his hand, craving more of the exquisite friction he provided. His other hand gripped your thigh tightly, his thumb brushing against your sensitive skin, adding to the whirlwind of sensations overwhelming you.

It excited him, made him hard when he thought about how no one knew what you let him do to you, and how they couldn’t do anything about it even if they did find out. The secrecy added a tantalizing edge to every encounter, an illicit thrill that made his pulse quicken.

The added twist of your brother, although messier, made it even more exhilarating. The rivalry with Neal meant that fucking you felt like a personal victory over the Vice Principal. Each time he had you, it was as if he was asserting his dominance, winning a private battle that only he understood.

Lee loved to win, and every stolen moment with you was a triumph. The thrill of conquest and the raw, unrestrained passion between you made his blood sing, fuelling his desire and solidifying his need to claim you again and again.

Sometimes, after coming down from your post-coital rendezvous in his office or under the bleachers, Lee would think that perhaps he didn't only love to win, but maybe loved you too. In those quiet moments, when the heat of passion had cooled and reality seeped back in, he felt a flicker of something deeper. Then, he'd light a cigarette, the sharp scent of tobacco filling the air, and shake his head, reminding himself that there were only three things he truly cared for in life—power, secrecy, and reputation.

You played a significant role in all of these. Your illicit encounters fuelled his sense of control, the thrill of secrecy added spice to his otherwise calculated life, and maintaining his pristine reputation meant everything to him, which he couldn't do without your cooperation. But no matter how good your pussy felt, he couldn't let you overshadow his priorities. He repeated this in his mind like a mantra as he leant forward, and licked a hot stripe up the expanse of you with the flat of his tongue.

"Lee," you mewled, the hand not on your breast moving to tangle in his frosted tips as he hooked your legs over his shoulder. His mouth was hot on you again, his tongue flicking back and forth as it lapped up the juices weeping from where his fingers were fucking into you. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His fingers moved in a steady rhythm, matching the pace of his tongue, driving you closer to the edge with every stroke as you muffled his moans. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his touch, and he responded by pressing deeper, his growl vibrating against your sensitive skin.

Every nerve in your body was alight, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. His grip on your thigh tightened, holding you in place as he continued his relentless assault on your senses. The combination of his fingers and tongue was driving you wild, your moans growing louder as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy.

When his nose nudged your sensitive nub, you cried out into the room. "Shut the fuck up," he hissed, his mouth leaving you but his fingers continuing their relentless assault. Whispered apologies fell from your lips as you writhed against the desk. He dipped his head again, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

You felt him smirk against you, fully aware that what he was doing made it nearly impossible for you to stay quiet. The pressure of his mouth and the skilful movement of his fingers pushed you to the edge, each sensation amplified by the need to stifle your sounds.

Your whispered apologies turned to desperate pleas as he curled his fingers inside you, stroking with precision. You keened at the pleasure, rolling your hips to seek it again and again, your body completely at his mercy.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. He alternated between sucking and licking your clit, his tongue moving in perfect rhythm with his fingers as they worked you open. The sensations were overwhelming, each stroke and flick sending you spiralling closer to your climax.

Your body responded eagerly, muscles tensing and releasing as waves of pleasure threatened to course through you. "Ride my face," he murmured against you, the vibrations of his voice adding to the intensity as his nails dug into your thigh, not holding you still this time but instead encouraging you to grind against him. "Go on, you know I want it. Don't hold back." His words were both a challenge and an invitation, urging you to take what you needed without hesitation.

With a few final, desperate rolls of your hips, you surrendered to the building pleasure, letting it crash over you in powerful bursts. Your climax tore through you, leaving you breathless and trembling, the room echoing with the sounds of your release. Your body convulsed, your swollen cunt clenching around his fingers and soaking them with a gush of juices that seeped down to the desk below.

Lee worked quickly, lapping up every bit of your release from you as the last of the shockwaves wracked your limp body. He kissed and nipped lightly at your thighs before drawing back to take your hands in his, pulling you up like a rag doll to sit before him. You slumped forward, resting your hands on his shoulders as he captured your lips in a heated kiss.

You sighed at the taste of yourself on his warm lips, his hands slinking around your waist to pull you into his lap. Straddling him, you felt the hardness of his arousal pressing against you through his clothes. His kiss was intense, filled with raw hunger as he moaned against your lips, and you responded eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair.

His hands roamed your back, sliding under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. The connection between you was electric, every touch and kiss reigniting the fire between you. You could feel his need, his desire to take you, and it matched your own as you rocked against him, swallowing his gasp with your kiss.

Your mind was still reeling from the high, your attention fixated on pulling Lee closer, savouring the taste of yourself on his lips. The office door opening went unnoticed, and your brother's booming voice didn't register until Lee abruptly pushed you off his lap, sending you sprawling onto the carpeted floor.

Disoriented, you clung to the edge of the mahogany desk, its polished surface slick under your fingers. You pulled yourself up and peeked over the wood, willing yourself to focus. There stood your brother, his face a mask of fury, his eyes blazing with anger. He slammed the door shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the room. "What the hell is this?" he demanded, his voice like thunder, one hand clenched at his side and the other gripping his ornate cane tightly.

"Gamby, I wasn't expecting you," Lee greeted with a forced smile, his fingers smoothing down the creases in his tie as he rose from his seat. His posture was stiff, tension evident in every movement. "Swift must have a damn death wish," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and edged with frustration. You winced at his words, feeling the sting of his disapproval.

"I sent Miss Swift on lunch," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to explain. You glanced up at Lee, his expression steely as he looked down upon you, a harsh glare that made you feel even smaller. You mouthed your apology, hoping to diffuse the tension, but the atmosphere in the room was thick with unease. The weight of your brother's stare was almost unbearable, and you could feel the rage radiating off him in waves.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" Neal said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he drew both your attentions back to him. "Should I step outside so you can continue fucking my sister?" His voice was raised, face flushed, and you could see the prominent vein on his neck pulsing, a clear sign of his fury whenever he got worked up.

"What?" Lee asked, his voice taking on a jovial tone, though his smile faltered briefly. "Don't be an idiot, Gamby, I'm not fucking your sister," he reasoned, raising his hands in a placating gesture while nodding for you to get up from the floor.

Quickly, you adjusted your skirt, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You grabbed a manila folder that had fallen during the chaotic moment, clutching it tightly as if it could provide some semblance of reason. Rising to your feet, you held the folder up to Neal, trying to steady your shaking hands. "She was just helping with filing," Lee added, his voice smooth and reassuring but Neal's furious eyes remained fixed on him, scepticism etched across his face.

"Cut the bullshit, Russell! You've still got my sister's lady essence all over your goddamn mouth," Neal shouted in disgust, motioning to his own mouth with his hand. The air of pretence dropped from Lee's face as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at your brother with disdain.

You placed a hand on Lee's arm, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you looked between the two men. "Can we behave like adults about this, please?" you implored, hoping to bring some sense of calm to the escalating situation.

Neal shrugged, eyebrows raised as he looked at you with disappointment written all over his face. "I just can't believe you're gonna break Mama's heart like this."

"Excuse me? What's Mama got to do with this?" you snapped, feeling a surge of frustration.

"Well, doesn't she have a right to know her only daughter has been defiled by a fuckin' leprechaun?" Neal shot back, his voice dripping with contempt.

"We're the same height, motherfucker," Lee interjected, his irritation clear as he stepped out from behind the desk, trying to defend himself.

"Russell, I swear to God if you do not point that thing somewhere else," Neal threatened, grabbing a cushion from the sofa beside him. He chucked it at Lee, who quickly caught it and held it over the bulging tent in his pants, his jaw tight.

He fixed Neal with a threatening glare. "Gamby, you need to understand that your sister is a grown woman with her own sexual desires, and I happen to be the one fulfilling those desires—really fulfilling them," he stressed, his smirk widening into a taunting grin. The words hung in the air, dripping with provocative intent. Neal's face contorted with disgust, his fist clenching at his sides. The tension between the two men was palpable, a volatile mix of anger and defiance that seemed ready to explode at any moment as they stared at each other from across the room.

"Lee, stop it," you said, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket but his eyes didn't move from Neals. You looked at your brother who pointed his cane to Lee, challenging him, and you sighed. "Neal, if you breathe a word of this to Mama, I'll tell her about Ms. Abbot giving you a sloppy in the supply closet," you threatened, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Neal's eyes snapped to you, then back to Lee, who held his hands up, his last ditch attempt at a gesture of innocence. Neal's face turned a shade redder, his fury momentarily replaced by shock and embarrassment as he dropped his cane back to his side. The balance of power shifted slightly, giving you a sliver of hope that the situation might be salvaged.

"You told her that? That's private, confidential information, Russell," Neal spat, his voice dripping with betrayal as he glared at Lee. "Just a couple of snakes in the grass, the pair of you."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "You know what? I've got a class to teach," you said, dropping the folder onto the desk with a thud. You moved towards the door, your steps purposeful. As you passed Neal, you paused, meeting his furious gaze with a calm steadiness. "I'll see you later at Janelle's race," you told him, hoping that by then he'd have somewhat gotten over this, although you knew it was going to take more than an afternoon for your stubborn brother to accept it.

He looked down at you, his demeanour wavering as you placed a hand on his arm. "I hope you wash the scent of shame from your body before you arrive," he said, his dramatic tone making you laugh despite the tension.

"Good to see you up and around, butthead," you said softly, giving his arm a light pat before reaching for the door. You turned back and glanced toward Lee, who was now slumped back in his chair with a pout on his face, still holding the cushion over his lap. You gave him a small wave. He rolled his eyes and shooed you away with a brush of his hand, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation.

As you stepped out of the office, you drew a deep breath, relieved to be out of the suffocating room. You knew that the repercussions of this encounter were far from over, but for now, you had other responsibilities to attend to, and the chaos of the moment would have to wait.

As you left, the muffled sounds of Lee and Neal arguing drifted through the door. You walked past Miss Swift, who had now returned to the reception area, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"I'd give them a moment," you told her, offering a small, knowing smile. Miss Swift nodded, her curiosity momentarily subdued, and you continued on your way, grateful to put some distance between yourself and the tumultuous scene you had left behind.

Hours later, as you sat at your desk watching your students during the afternoon pop quiz, you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your skirt. The room was quiet except for the scratching of pencils on paper and the occasional rustle of paper. Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, you discreetly pulled out your phone. The soft glow of the screen lit up your face as you saw the notification. You couldn't help but smile to yourself at the message, the tension from earlier in the day easing slightly.

Lee: Your brother's a little bitch. My least favourite Gamby.

You stifled a chuckle, biting your lip as you imagined the irritated look on Lee's face while typing the message. Moments later, another message arrived.

Lee: ❤️

The unexpected emoji made your heart skip a beat. You glanced up to ensure your students were still focused on their quiz, then allowed yourself a brief moment to savour the warm feeling spreading through your chest. You tucked your phone away, the smile lingering on your lips as you tried to refocus on your students, your mind still replaying the texts long past the bell.

#lee russell x reader #lee russell smut #vice principals #vice principals x reader #vice principals x smut #lee russell #neal gamby #gamby!reader #xreader #walton goggins #lee russell x you #lee russell fic

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ghoulishneeds · 3 months

Text

✧ ─𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝒜𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝒾𝓅𝓁𝑒─ ✧

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆

✧𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You unwittingly accept the same bounty as Cooper. Things go sideways in a shootout and Cooper decides to teach ya a lesson

✧𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Cooper Howard x F!Reader

✧𝒞𝒲: dubcon, choking, spanking, language, smut, irradiated creampie, unbeta’d we die like men

✧𝒲𝒞: 4.6K+

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You adjusted the bag, heavy on your right shoulder. Relief washed through you as you hit the top of a dune and saw the next town.

Not far at all. If you were right, he was in the town.

You approached the makeshift gate protecting the town, and the armed guard stepped out of his shack. The guy was so tanked he was barely standing. He barely even looked you up and down before opening the gate.

Top-notch security.

You pressed on through the town. It was relatively late, with firelight illuminating the majority of the square. Some vendors were still open, trying to push their wares on newcomers and bartering with regulars.

Making your way through the crowd, questioning a few people here and there, you were careful not to raise any suspicion. An old man selling rusted Vault-Tec equipment told you about a few faces he hadn’t seen before, headed towards the bar. Thanking him, you scanned the streetline. The bar sat on the far end of the town, against the other gate.

Perfect. Easy out.

Discreetly reloading your pistol and reholstering it, you headed towards the bar.

You pushed the half-broken door open and the smell of cigarette smoke and concentrated liquor hit you. You sat at the nearest corner of the bar and ordered a drink. While the bartender poured your drink, your eyes scanned the faces in the bar. You tilted the glass back, the room-temperature liquor burning your throat on the way down.

A sharp laugh pulled your eyes towards a table near the back. A short, heavy-set man was throwing back a beer and telling an elaborate story.

The target.

You watched him for a moment, making the decision that it would definitely be easier the drunker he got. You settled in, ordering a second drink.

Turning the drink back and setting the glass back down, you looked around again.

There was an interesting blend of people in here, not surprising considering the top-tier security.

There was a table closer to you, where raiders were sharing drinks and discussing the towns they’d hit. The couple next to you at the bar appeared to be older-model synths.

Your eyes passed them to land on a man at the end of the bar. Even with the shadow cast by the brim of his cowboy hat, you could tell he was a ghoul.

You looked him over. Wearing tattered cowboy attire, he looked very pre-war, you thought to yourself. Hell, he even had spurs on. Radioactive cowboy. The thought made you smirk.

When your eyes moved back to his face, he was looking back at you. You almost jumped. His face was unreadable. His eyes burned into you and you let yourself look over his features for a brief second. You could see where he may have been handsome before. Save a horse ride a cowboy. You looked him up and down. His brow furrowed and you quickly shifted your eyes away. The negative expression almost made you embarrassed.

You kicked back the rest of your drink, the alcohol buzzing under your skin, warm. You could still feel the man’s eyes on you and you chanced a glance back at him.

His eyes were on your hip, where your pistol sat in its holster. Apprehension started hitting your system. It was never a good thing when someone looked a little too close at your gun, and he looked pissed.

His eyes flickered back to your face and you held his gaze. His eyes were almost the same color as the liquor filling the cup in your hand. Hm, pretty. The thought slipped through your mind.

There was movement at his waist and your eyes dropped down.

He had shifted the tattered coat back, the revolver at his hip very visible now. Your brow furrowed as you processed what he was silently conveying.

And it clicked.

Bounty hunter.

You huffed a sigh, frustrated. He was here for the same fucking bounty. You turned your attention back to the bartender and ordered another drink, quickly finishing it.

You needed to regroup. This was a fucking problem. A bounty THIS big? It was going to come down to more than one body on the ground, and you’d be damned if it was yours.

You just had to get to him first.

You glanced at the other bounty hunter again. He wasn’t looking at you anymore and you let your thoughts slow down for a second.

Worried if you left the bar, the ghoul would just take the target right there in the middle of it. Worried if you got in the way, you’d be taken out.

The problem rectified itself when the man staggered towards the bar to clear out his tab. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he leaned over the bar to toss caps at the tender. Your eyes caught the ghoul’s through the man’s arms and your heart rate jumped.

The man and his friends stumbled their way out of the bar. You took the small opportunity and blended into their group, moving with them out of the bar. You split off slightly to the right and followed from a small distance.

Making sure to keep the bar in your peripheral, watching for the break of light that would announce the ghoul’s exit from the establishment.

They made their way towards an inn across the street from the bar. This end of the street was relatively desolate, save for a few drunks and the occasional stray.

You made the quick decision that it was now or never. You drew your pistol, intending to just take his friends out with him. Solve the whole problem. You aimed and pressed your finger over the trigger. Before you could pull, a shot rang out and metal flew past your left ear. You whipped around, gun pointed at the source.

The ghoul.

You locked eyes with the other bounty hunter, your heart racing as you both stood ready with your weapons drawn. He was lean, holding the revolver one-handed. You struggled to keep your breath steady.

The tension had a physical weight to it.

The group behind you drew their own weapons in response to the shot. Another shot sounded from behind you and you took the chance, firing at the other bounty hunter. The bullet hit him square on, but the only thing he did was shift with the impact.

Gunfire exploded around you and chaos erupted.

Dirt and smoke made it nearly impossible to see in the already dim fire-lit street. You cut your losses. There was no fucking way you were making it out of the shootout without at least getting maimed. Can’t make money if you’re fucking incapacitated.

You peeled off from the violence, skirting the fence line. Finding a gap in the sheets of metal, you paused, glancing back.

The shots were slowing now, only one or two being fired in the last minute. You could only see his outline, but even with that, you could tell he was facing you. Panicked breath pushed out of you and you squeezed through the gap.

You hauled ass through the desert.

“Fuck. FUCK.” You gritted your teeth, fucking furious. At the interruption and at yourself for high-tailing it out of there. Sighing, you drew your gun, going to reload it out of habit. You dropped the magazine out and frowned at it. You laughed. It sounded empty. No need to reload; you’d pussied out and only fired one bullet. You jammed the mag back in and reholstered it. Rolling your eyes, you pressed on.

There was another town to the east. Not far. Maybe a day and a half’s walk. The plus-side of the wasteland and this line of work, business was usually booming.

You made your way towards the town, moving for most of the night. You traveled as far as you could before exhaustion began to set in. You kicked up more sand and moved slower, tiredness making you sluggish.

Against an outcrop, you set up a small makeshift camp. You wrestled with the decision to light a fire or not, but the cold mixing with the ache in your muscles pushed you to take the risk. You were fairly confident you could handle any radroaches it might attract. You settled down onto your sleeping mat and watched the flames for a while before sleep weighed your eyelids down and you slipped away.

Your sleep was dreamless, warm and grey.

There was a sound nearby, but you couldn’t identify it.

Shink, shink.

It was a slow, repetitive sound that gently pulled you out of sleep.

You opened your eyes to the flames, blinking sleepily until the blurred image became identifiable.

Shink.

It was a slow metallic sound.

A knife?

You jolted upright, your head snapping towards the sound. Hot panic overrode any remaining grogginess when your eyes focused on him.

The ghoul.

He was sitting on one of the rocks to the right of your mat, knees bent, sharpening the blade that belonged in the empty holster on one side of his hip. His eyes were dark, reflecting the firelight, watching you.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” His voice was a heavy drawl, sinking under your skin.

You tensed, your heart racing, adrenaline surging through you as you scanned your surroundings for an escape route. The ghoul just watched you, sharpening the knife while eyeing you up. His face was neutral, if not almost amused.

Keeping your eyes on his, your hand moved for your pistol and connected with your hip. Cold fear hit you and you dropped your gaze to your hip. It wasn’t just the gun. The whole holster was gone. You looked back up and he was holding the pistol.

“You were looking for this, darlin’?” He tilted his head, smirking. Your eyes jumped between him and the gun.

“You ran off so fast I couldn’t thank you properly for the hole you put in me,” his voice was honeyed, raspy. Dark eyes burned into you and his face set into a frown. Fear pumped through you.

“You followed me out here to settle the score?” you asked. You weren’t honestly surprised. You shouldn’t have stopped for the night; you should’ve pushed on to the town.

Fuck.

The ghoul chuckled, a low rasp almost. “Well, darlin’, I certainly couldn’t let you put a bullet in me and think you were just gonna trot off into the sunset.” He looked at you like it was obvious. Like you should have known he’d follow you out into the desert. Track you like an animal.

You mentally sped through your options. Stay put and you were definitely getting killed, run and there was a chance. Your eyes cut to the left, a clear path over the outcrop. You tensed, getting ready to move the second you had a chance. When you looked back at the ghoul, he was leaning back, your pistol on his knee.

“Oh, sweetheart, I gotta tell ya,” he stood, grinning now. “I like it when they run.”

You bolted. Kicking sand up behind you in the scramble to get up right. Adrenaline flooded through you, prompting your legs to move faster. You scrambled over the outcrop and hesitated. Your stomach dropped at the sight in front of you. The desert went on as far as you could see, in a flat barren smear of orange across the landscape. No cover.

Doesn't matter. You've got to move. You started moving again but your moment of hesitation closed the distance between the two of you.

A sharp glance over your shoulder as you scrambled down the side of the dune showed you just how close he'd been to you. You furrowed your brow. He definitely could've gotten you from a five foot distance, what was he doing?

Your feet hit flat sand and you surged forward. You hear the sand behind you but didn't bother turning, not risking it.

I like it when they run.

He himself wasn't moving particularly fast. It was almost frustrating, just enough to keep you on edge.

The thoughts that rolled through your head were cut off by a sharp sound. A whine?

You were yanked backwards quite suddenly. Kicking and thrashing as you were dragged back by the rope.

The sound had been the rope cutting through the air. A lasso. A fucking lasso?

I like when they run.

Ah.

It's a game to him.

You grit your teeth and tried to pull against the rope, but it's held firm. Panic started to set in as you felt yourself being dragged across the hot sand. Your captor was moving slowly, almost lazily, the realization that you were being toyed with setting in.

"Let me go!" You growled and attempted to kick in his general direction. He just laughed in response. It was a low and mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. He tugged the rope again, jolting you.

"Afraid I can't do that," he says, his words playful despite the tension in the situation.

As you continued to struggle against the rope, the ghoul seemed amused, smirking as he stood over you. A boot planted on the ground, on either side of your hips.

You rolled over on to your back and glared up at him, eyes narrowed against the sun.

He smirked down at you, a hand placed on his hip. He let a bag, that’d been slung over his shoulder hit the ground, tossing your pistol and holster with it.

"I've still gotta thank you for that bullet sweetheart." His voice shot through you. A thick drawl dripping with something you couldn't place.

You scoffed and spit sand at him. "You're welcome for the fuckin' free ammo," you hissed, your voice laced with defiance.

His eyes lit up at that. Like a switch flipped.

He dropped to his knees, so that he was effectively straddling you. Your eyes widened and you bucked your hips in an attempt to get him off of you.

He placed a hand against your stomach and shoved you back into the sand. He took both of your wrists in his hand and wrapped the rope around them. Tying it off in some intricate knot you’d never seen.

You glared at your now bound wrists and snapped your gaze back to him. Much closer now. He leaned back, still straddling your hips, lazily bringing his gaze to meet yours.

You held his gaze defiantly. His eyes were still very human. Amber and whiskey. Almost…pretty. The thought passed you again.

The exertion from struggling against the rope had left you panting, chest heaving.

He studied you for a moment, almost as if sizing you up. Then, he leaned down again, his breath hot on your neck.

"I think we're gonna have some fun, sweetheart."

A shiver rolled through you, hips shifting subconsciously. He raised his eyebrows, smirking.

You yanked against the ropes again, another attempt to pull yourself free from them. He chuckled, his breath hot on your neck. Leaning back again, he took the rope binding your wrist in his hand, and yanked it forward. You were jerked up off the sand, forced into an almost sitting position. The movement pulled you even with him, forcing you closer.

You tried to jerk away, turning your face the other direction. “It’s not like it even fuckin did anything.” Your voice sounded distant. Low, raspy.

He grabbed your chin, tilting your face towards his. Thumb stroking along your jawbone. Your breath has started coming faster, more shallow. Almost panting. You’ve stopped pulling against the rope, your eyes locked on his as some kind of heat starts rolling through you. Almost hungry. Eager to see what his next move will be.

“You see darlin,” his eyes dropped to your mouth and he let his thumb brush over your bottom lip. “It’s about the principle.”

He held your gaze and let his hand move to your neck. Rough fingers traced the line of your throat while you fought back a whine.

Jesus I need to get ahold of myself. This man just tracked me through the desert like a wild animal and tied me up.

He slid his thumb along your collarbone. His hand shifting over your chest, fingers tracing your sternum. Still holding your gaze. Something hungry and heated in his eyes fanning your steadily building need.

Fuck it. If I’m dying anyway I might as well make it good.

His grip on the rope binding your wrists hadn't loosened any, keeping you in place. He leaned forward, hot breath fanned out across your throat. You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck to him. He chuckled against you.

The ghoul suddenly released his grip on your binding and your back hit the ground. You grunted as the air was knocked out of you, and looked at him indignantly.

He moved to stand, and looked down at you like you were a fucking prize. Your chest heaved with each breath. Frustrated with the entire situation. You glared up at him and he winked at you, before moving again.

You made a surprised sound as you were roughly turned over, the side of your face pressed into the sand. He hooked an arm under your midsection, jerking you up onto your knees and elbows. He pushed his knee between yours, forcing your legs apart and you gasped as your upper body dropped flat against the sand. The ghoul placed a hand at your waist, grinding himself against you.

You couldn’t help the needy sound that slid out of you. You rocked your hips back, suddenly desperate for the contact against your core. You chanced a glance back at him. The smile on his face was absolutely wolffish. “That’s it sugar.” His voice was a low rasp now.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your pants, yanking them down. He left them at your knees, not bothering to pull them all the way off. The air was cool in comparison, shocking your core a bit, you tried to close your legs. He forced his knee between your thighs again, shoving them open, and leaned over you again.

You felt his breath on your neck. "You're gonna beg for it, aren't ya?" he whispered, his voice low and husky. You nodded, your back arched, pushing you against him.

His hand was suddenly in your hair, yanking your head back. “Sorry darlin I didn’t hear you.”

You gasp, your neck ached at the angle. “I-“

He slid a hand between your legs, the lack of response hitting him the right way. The ghoul slid his fingers between your lips. You were embarrassingly wet. He tightened his grip on your hair, the other hand between your legs, teasing your entrance. “You gonna fuckin speak up or am I gonna have to make you scream?” He growled against your shoulder.

You swallowed thickly, your heart racing. “Y-yes.” You were almost gasping for air. "Please…fuck me." you managed to choke out. You felt his smile against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

The ghoul let out a low chuckle, "Now, that's what I like to hear." He released your hair, and shoved you forward again. He let out a rough exhale as he sunk two fingers into you. You moaned, a high needy sound, and pushed yourself back. He didn't move, watched you fuck yourself back on his fingers with a smirk.

You glared at him over your shoulder, his eyes met yours and he scoffed. "Seems like you're taking care of yourself sweetheart."

“Seems like I’m gonna have to.” You quipped back, challenging him. He raised an eyebrow and then his hand was on the back of your head. He shoved your face back to the side and pressed you down. He withdrew his fingers, leaving you whining at the loss.

He leaned back and you heard the light ting of metal as he undid his belt. You heard him slide the belt through the loops on his pants. The sound was followed by a zipper, and you yelped as the belt was looped over your head and around your neck.

The ghoul pulled the belt into a tight grip, slowly tugging it back, forcing you up once again. It was almost painful, but the feeling of him pressed against you was overriding everything else.

As he pulled back on the belt, you felt the pressure on your neck increase, causing you to gasp. You arched your back again, trying to push against him. The ghoul chuckled darkly and leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over your neck. “That’s right darlin’, show me how much you want it.” He growled, tugging hard on the belt one last time. He leaned down, letting his lips ghost over the side of your neck, making you shiver. Teeth scraping across the sensitive skin, his tongue followed.

He loosened his grip on the belt, just enough for him to lean back, and line himself up with your entrance. He paused, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. "Tell me how bad you want it sweetheart." You could hear the smirk.

By now you had been reduced to a panting, drooling mess. Your mind was overheated, making it hard to find the words he wanted to hear.

"Cmon darlin." He urged you, rubbing his cock against your aching clit. You jumped at the contact, a long whine escaping you.

"Please." You almost moaned it, turning your head to look at him again. "I need you."

The brief realization that you didn't even know his name passed through your mind.

Did it matter? No. Definitely not.

He looks amused. "There ya go." His hand moved to your hip and he pulled you back against him, filling you in one hard thrust.

You let out a low moan at the fullness. The ghoul leaned down, his breath was hot on your neck. "That's it," he growled, he had already started moving, harsh deep thrusts. "Feels good, doesn't it?" You just moaned in response, the sound hitched with each thrust.

He began to pick up speed, pounding into you roughly. The pain mixed with the pleasure, making you see stars. You arched your back, trying to meet his thrusts. The belt around your neck tightened, almost cutting off your air. It was fucking exquisite.

You gasped, your eyes practically rolled back in your head. "Oh god... more..." you panted, reaching down to touch yourself. You couldn't believe how good it felt. It was almost overwhelming. The ghoul groaned and reached down, slapping your hand away. "Not yet," he growled, continuing to thrust into you.

You yelped as his hand came down on your ass cheek. A hard sharpcrack. Several more followed in quick succession, leaving your ass burning, and you panting.

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and he smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "You want more?" He asked, his voice low and raspy. You nodded eagerly, unable to form words. He chuckled darkly and leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over your neck. "Say it." He released his grip on the belt.

You took a deep gasping breath. “Please, I wanna cum. I wanna make you cum.” You didn’t recognize your own voice or the words coming out of you. You would have been embarrassed any other time. But now, you needed release, you were desperate for it.

The ghoul smirked, clearly pleased with your response. He pulled himself almost completely out of you before pushing back in again, hitting your g-spot perfectly. You arched your back, a moan escaping your lips. He continued the new rhythm, one hand gripping your hip tightly. He leaned over you again, his hand sliding between your legs.

His fingers found your clit and began to tease it gently, circling around it. You cried out, your hips jerking. The hand on your hip moved. His arm encircled your waist, holding you in place against him.

You gasped as he picked up the pace. His thrusts took that rough demanding rhythm back on, his fingers moving in time. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt like you were about to explode. "C'mon honey." he growled, his voice rough and demanding, but needy in its own right. You whimpered, unable to form a coherent thought at this point. You could feel it, you were so close.

Each thrust pushed you closer to the edge.You whimpered as you felt yourself on the brink, your body tensing and readying for release. The ghoul's fingers continued to move over your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. His other hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you against his hard length.

You arched your back, a moan escaping your lips as you felt the familiar tingling sensation spreading through your body. The ghoul's thrusts became harder and faster.You locked eyes with him over your shoulder.

Oh god.

It was too much. You cried out, your body shaking as you felt yourself being pushed over the edge. You cursed as you came. Not like you had a name to scream.

His thrusts were becoming rougher, the rhythm sloppier. He had to be close. You pushed your hips back, attempting to meet his thrusts.

The ghoul groaned, sliding his hand around your throat, he pressed his lips against the back of your neck. "Mmm fuck." He panted out, hips hesitating. " 'm gonna fill you up."

He released the grip on your throat, using you hips for purchase as he drove himself deeper into you. After a moment of the rapid deep thrusts, his rhythm stuttered. He pressed a hand against the small of your back, burying himself in you. You felt his cock twitching as his own orgasm hit him. You moaned, arching your back as you feel the wet heat filling you. He groaned, a low raspy sound. Very briefly, letting his weight rest against you.

Within moments he'd removed the belt from your neck. He left you on the ground like that for a moment, while he redressed, smirking at the sight of his cum dripping out of your still exposed cunt.

As you caught your breath, the ghoul squatted over you, a knife in hand. Hot panic surged through you, erasing any sense of an after glow. He didn't move for a moment. Just held your panicked gaze, before smirking. He rolled you back over and cut the rope binding your wrists.

He stood back up and watched you redress. You slowly stood, facing him. His eyes tracked your every movement.

The ghoul pointed the knife towards you, his face regaining the serious expresssion from before. "Stay the fuck outta my way."

He kicked the bag he'd dropped earlier towards you and without another word headed off towards the east. You watched him, still feeling panicky and absolutely dumbfounded.

After a moment you turned your attention to the bag and frowned. You squatted to inspect it, pulling the zipper back. You shouted in surprise, nearly losing balance.

A fucking head??

What the actual fuck?

You steadied yourself and looked again. You almost laughed. The bounty. It was the man from the bounty. You stood back up frantically looking for the direction the ghoul had gone. You caught his silhouette.

You watched him, fighting back a smile. It'd certainly be a shame if you got in his way again.

#cooper howard x reader smut #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader smut #the ghoul x reader #fallout 2024

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lynk-zee · 4 months

Note

i've been looking at your posts recently and i am in LOVE. is there chance you could do a spanking scenario? like the main 3 possibly but if not then just one of them! don't stress if not 🩷

Sweet Peaches

Added ass grabbing so I don’t repeat myself too much! SPICY but marked NSFW

You were being a brat again. Dancing on his nerves like a little ballerina, fluttering your eyelashes at him as if you weren’t acting up. Well this is what you get.

“Someone could have walked in…” He growls into your ear as he has you sprawled over his lap. You were in his office, wearing nothing but his lab coat, waiting for him in the most tantalizing pose he’s ever seen. What if he had a colleague with him? Perhaps a patient? What were you thinking, waiting in such scandalous attire. He had to teach you a lesson.

“Count.”

Before you could protest, he swung his hand down onto your ass, making you yelp. “I said count.”

Again. “O-One…”

Again and again. “T-Two…ThrEE-AH!”

“Speak clearly or you’ll have to start over.”

“F—OUR!! Five…S-Six…”

By the time you reached your twenties, you were so far gone.

“Twenty-four…..Ugh-huh….Twenty-five…”

“Good.”

He pulled you up to sit in his lap, tutting at the glazy look in your eyes, thumbing away your drool.

“Good…Let me reward you now, sweetheart…”

I feel like Rafayel always has a hand on your ass anyways. It’s his favorite place to hold you when you hug, when you kiss, when you fuck… Spanking is kind of a given. At the worst possible moments. You could be at his art exhibition, doing your job as his body guard when he notices how good your ass looks in those pants. Like, mid-sentence, he will smack and squeeze your ass, continuing to converse with his patrons like nothings happened. And no, he will not be letting go anytime soon.

Also squeezes your ass like a stressball when he’s having a hard time concentrating on his art. He’ll be like “Baby can you come here?” just so he can fondle your ass as he tries to figure out what color would look best for his painting.

Keep this man away from your ass!! I’m warning you! Letting Xavier know what it’s like to hold your ass can result in some intense consequences. Especially when he slaps it for the first time. It’s over. He doesn’t spank to punish, he spanks to mark.

Most of the time he uses his hand, he like the skin to skin contact despite the sting. It feels more personal. But, if your up for it, let him use a riding crop or a paddle. Maybe not a belt (baby doesn’t want to hurt you too bad), but it can get pretty intense with him (I tried to warn you). You just look so pretty covered in his marks.

No matter his weapon of choice, Xavier will always give you superb aftercare. You were so good for him, he has to be so good for you. He’ll rub a soothing balm on your skin as you whine into his chest, whispering praises in your ear.

#thanks anon for the dancing on zayne’s nerves bit!#love & deepsace x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #🌙l&ds #⭐️l&ds

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berberriescorner · 29 days

Text

“Get Your Act Together”

Part of the “Say What Now?” Song Series

Characters: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader.

Summary: A reader who’s petty and needs to teach jealous and possessive Angel a lesson.

Warnings: Strong language, sexual content, suggestive themes, possessive behavior, and jealousy.

Word Count: 2,900+

AN: This one is for my lovelies @darqchilddaydreamz and @ravennaortiz! Be sure to give my babies a shout-out for encouraging me to finish this one. They gave me the push I needed to do so. I hope all my loves enjoy this one. Yes, I’m aware, the dress is different in the storyboard, but it still gives what needs to be given. Okay!

Inspired By💖:

People closest to you, whether friends or family, always expressed that they envied your level of pettiness. It was as if you were the queen of petty. Your best friend often compared your skills to a lioness hunting its prey. If someone pissed you off purposefully, you weren’t always quick to act. It was much better when you waited, letting that person feel they had gotten away with something. Once you noticed it had slipped their mind, that they were comfortable. That would be when you took the time to get revenge. Pettiest bitch alive.

Your current mood and setting could be used as an amazing example. There you were sitting at the kitchen island. Eyes focused on the portable LED makeup mirror propped on the counter. One hand held your eyelid as the other drew a precise wing. Music flowed throughout the house and you rocked your hips while sitting on the bar stool. Your hair had been curled and pinned. You wanted the curls to set in before taking them down. You were fresh out of the shower, almost fully dressed, and smelled divine. To avoid any makeup spills, you had slipped into your silk robe.

The song had switched just as you put the finishing touches on your look. The track that started was perfect for how you were feeling. It was fitting for the little plan you had set in motion. Revenge was for sure sweet. “Beating Down Yo Block” by Monaleo flooded the house. Sliding out of your robe, you started letting your curls loose. Walking over to your heels, you slid them on as the song’s beat sunk into your veins.

Using your fingers to comb through the fresh curls, you started rapping your favorite part. “Bitch I’m fine! Slim waist, pretty face, he know I’m a dime.” Still combing through the curls you dipped to the ground, dress riding up a bit as you did a little twerk. The sound of bikes approached your driveway and you smiled to yourself. Damn, I have perfect timing.

Giving a classy little twerk in the living room mirror, you continued to rap the lyrics, “Ain’t no pressure ‘bout no ninja, tell his ass to fall in line.” The front door opened and your alarm was disabled. You heard him call out to you. You stayed silent, a devilish smirk played upon your lips. Angel walked into the living room. Your eyes met in the mirror as you said the next line in the song. This time, your ‘Megan knees’ were in full effect. “Cause for this next line you gotta look me in my eyes. If you think I’ma sweat you, you out your mothafuckin’ mind.”

Angel was too mesmerized by your ass in the little black dress you had on. He had picked up on the subliminal message of the lyrics but was more interested in your attire. His eyes scanned over you, as his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He could feel himself hardening. That was until he remembered you two weren’t alone. He growled seeing Coco to his left and Ez to his right. Both men were ogling you. Ezekiel’s reaction was more shocked. Coco’s grin was a mile long as he sat there eating every bit of the image up.

Angel being jealous and possessive, barked at you, “Stop throwing ass in front of company. Pull that short-ass dress down. Where the fuck do you think you’re going dressed like that anyway?”

“First off I was here, by myself, getting ready, and enjoying my company. I can twerk as much as I want in my damn house. You barged your tall lanky ass into my shit. Stop talking to me crazy, Angel. To answer your question. I’m going out with my girls.”

“Our shit.”

“Sleeping here almost every night doesn't mean a thing to me. You still have your place and my last name hasn’t changed.

“If you wear that short-ass dress, we’re going with you. Your ass is damn near out.”

“Stop being dramatic. No, it isn’t! I do not need a babysitter, Angel. If you can do you, I can do me, right?”

Angel understood what it was all about now.

“Why do you have to be so petty? How does that much evil fit in such a short body?”

Your shoulders shrugged, as your hips swayed to the mirror to touch up your lip combo. Angel walked up behind you pulling you into his chest. His lips ghosted your bare shoulder, giving it a playful bite, and his hips thrust against you.

“Stay here with me, mi dulce. I want to get you out of this dress.”

You felt him press into you and fought back a whimper. You refused to allow Angel to have his way. You pushed off of him.

“I’m going out tonight in this dress, end of conversation. On second thought, I take that back. Let’s have a chat about dresses. Mine is an issue, but it wasn’t a problem last weekend,” you purred.

“Last weekend? What are you talking about?”

Yeah, playing dumb is not going to slide this time, jackass.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Angel.”

Your obtuse boyfriend looked to Coco and Ez for help. Both men threw their hands up, wanting no part of the conversation.

“Here let me jog your memory. Remember when I walked into the party at the clubhouse last weekend? When you hadn’t noticed, because you were too busy entertaining that fucking hang around. The one who conveniently dropped her phone and bent over to pick it up. Had all three of you dumbasses staring at her bare ass. I couldn’t give one iota of a fuck about your boys staring, but you? Yeah, that’s a problem. You want to be possessive? I’ll do the same. You want to stare at other bitches? Let’s see how you feel about other men eyeing me, Papa. My dress isn’t nearly as short as the one that thirsty hoe had on. I’ve told you one too many times not to play with me. Now I’ma show you better than I could ever tell you, baby.”

Angel tried to save face in front of his friends. He mumbled, “Nobody worried about shit. Go out, it won’t affect me as much as you think, Mami.”

Your eyes locked in with both EZ and Coco. You all smirked, communicating without even saying a word. He wanted to be cute in front of his little friends?

I can be funny too, and have them help a sista out.

Your heels clicked over to Angel. Sliding your hands on his chest, you looked up at him with fluttering lashes. Face painted with an innocent expression, you stood on your tiptoes to steal a quick kiss. He smiled down at you thinking he had won. You leaned in and teased him.

“Ass fat. Kitty fat. I got all these men wishing they could have that. Baby, just admit that you love it here,” you smirked trying to get a rise out of him.

Angel kissed his teeth and was about to say something sarcastic, but Ez cut him off, “God, I did not need to know that,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry, bro but he needs to be reminded of what he’s got at home,” she teased the flustered Mayan.

Kissing his teeth Angel retorted, “You the one acting up. Better chill out before I give you some act right.”

“I mean come on ‘mano, that ass is fat. You better appreciate that fine-ass woman,” Coco challenged.

Angel looked at him as if he had lost his mind. It took everything in Ezekiel to keep from laughing.

Still staring at Coco like a madman he replied, “Bitch, do you want me to shoot you? Stop looking at my girl’s ass!”

Ezekiel wanted in with busting his brother's balls. Like a typical annoying baby brother, he joined in on the fun, “Sister or not. We’re not real blood, so I’ve gotta agree with Coco, brother-.”

“Don’t finish that fucking statement, Ezekiel,” Angel warned.

Ez and Coco exchanged a knowing glance before the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“What? It’s the truth! That’s a nice ass, with a nice set of ti-.”

In a split second Angel was lunging at Ezekiel. With your help, Coco managed to break up the scuffle among the brothers.

“Jesus, bro. Learn how to handle a joke!”

“Fuck both of y’all,” Angel pouted, no longer enjoying being the brunt of the joke.

“No disrespect. My bad, it is fat though,” he chuckled along with Ezekiel.

“Bunch of bitches,” Angel groaned.

Feeling you had tortured him enough for the evening, you walked over to him wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hey, look at me,” you cooed, gripping his chin softly.

“Baby, you know they’re joking. If anybody tried me like that, I’d curse them out. Relax, you know you give them shit about their significant others as well. Luckily you have sense enough not to try that shit in front of me, because I’d kick you in the balls,” she smiled innocently. Now calm down and give me kisses, papa.”

His arms wrapped around your waist as he lifted you off the ground. Three pecks and a hungry kiss later, EZ and Coco stood there rolling their eyes.

“All this lovey-dovey shit is making my stomach turn. Cut it out,” Coco grumbled.

“One more, mama. Make it real good so Coco can lose his dinner.”

He leaned in to capture your lips. It was slow and dirty. All teeth and tongue. Without breaking eye contact, his left hand trailed down your back. Stopping at your backside, he grabbed a handful. His left hand lifted from your waist as he flipped his brothers off.

“Now how can you get mad, when you know for a fact that it's fat? Look at how you just gripped the shit out of it. You got any sisters or cousins packing something that serious? Hook us up,” Coco begged.

It was your turn to flick them off. Pulling away from the kiss, you bounced over to your brothers. Raising on tiptoes you slapped them both in the back of the head.

“That’s for staring at my ass!”

Another smack.

“That’s for conveniently forgetting you both have old ladies. Whom I adore. I’m snitching on you bitches. Do I have any sisters or cousins? Get out my face with that mess, joke or not, I’ll beat your ass. Angel’s all the heathen my family can tolerate,” you joked.

Angel sat back with his arms crossed admiring you. Feeling his stare, your eyes connected as you bit your lip.

Both men sandwiched you in between giving you bear hugs. Ezekiel kissed your temple before pulling back.

“Lo siento, hermanita.”

“Yeah, querida. We didn’t mean any harm. It’s just Angel makes it so easy to fuck with him.”

Angel raised both middle fingers to his brothers. Your arms wrapped around his waist tightly. With a tug of his shirt, he understood your signal to lower himself to your height. You pecked his lips several times. He stood there smiling like a love-struck idiot as you wiped your gloss from his lips.

With a pat on his chest, you made a beeline to your handbag. You made sure you had your keys and cell phone. With confirmation, you turned in the direction of the three men.

“Alright baby, I’m heading over to besties. I’m leaving my car at hers, and she’s driving us to the bar.”

Angel cut you off, growling your full name. “I’m serious, querida. If you’re wearing that we’re coming too.”

The two of you stared each other down. You refused to give in to his demands. With a shrug of the shoulders, you responded, “Then I guess y’all hittin’ the bar tonight.” The keys in your hand were tossed across the living room as Angel caught them. He looked at you, head tilted to the side.

“Oh, you thought I was changing? No, baby boy. I hope you three didn’t have any plans.”

To the three men’s absolute horror, not only did they have you to watch over. EZ and CoCo were pissed to learn that the besties you were hitting the town with were their old ladies. They too, had on dresses that left little to the imagination.

When you went for revenge, it was always the most pettiest, delicious thing ever. The Mayan men spent the next two hours threatening anybody who so much as looked in your direction. They sat at the bar mugging, while you and the girls danced the night away.

Later that night after everyone had returned to their homes, Angel sat in the recliner. His eyes collided with yours as you swept into the living room fresh out of the shower. He looked pissed as you giggled, standing between his legs.

“What did we learn today,” you asked in your best kindergarten-teacher voice.

“What the fuck are you on about, querida?”

You leaned forward running your hands up his arms. You crawled into his lap, smiling mischievously. Your arms linked behind his neck as you rocked a bit. Inwardly you did a little victory dance as you heard him groan.

Your face stopped inches away from his. The two of you were close enough that your breath fanned one another. “Don’t play dumb. What did you learn, Daddy?”

“That you’re a petty ass woman.”

“Boy, stop! You already knew that.” Your hips circled on his lap. Angel's hands gripped your thighs tighter as he groaned, “Fuck.”

“Answer me, Daddy,” you cooed, rocking your hips back and forth over his hardening erection. “I’ll even help you out. Repeat after me.”

“I learned,” you started, pressing against him harder. You halted your movement, waiting for him to repeat it.

Angel kissed his teeth, “You gonna take this away,” he started, palming your covered mound. Your breath hitched, as you fought for control. Unable to say anything, your head nodded.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, “I fucking learned,” he growled.

“Not to pay thot-ass, hang-around-ass hoes any mind.”

“I’m not saying that shit, Mami.”

“Ignacio,” you growled back, “Just say the shit so we can fuck already.”

“Fine! I’ll ignore every thot ass hoe who steps foot in the clubhouse. Does that work for your pretty ass,” he asked, giving your left cheek a light smack.

“I mean, I guess.”

Angel cocked his head back, “You guess? Mi dulce, you know I don’t want that girl. She was being thirsty. That’s what they do.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You look at women’s asses all the time. Why is it cool when you’re all like, ‘Babe, look at her ass! Sis, packing a wagon,” he mocked.

“That’s different. You gotta have permission, love.”

“You know you’re crazy as fuck. Right?”

“Yep! Enough of this. Do you want to make it up to me? Take me upstairs, put me on my back, and eat me until I can’t see straight.”

With an evil smirk, Angel had you in the bedroom, on your back instantly. The head he’d given caused your vision to blur. Without any time to come down, Angel flipped you onto your knees. He buried himself deep, pulling at your curls. Angel bent you into the perfect arch. He was in no mood to be nice. Flashes of you in that dress being ogled ran through his head. He pinned you to the mattress as his hips snapped against you. The both of you, shouting every time his tip tapped that spot.

He used both hands to smack against your supple flesh. Angel's fingers dug into your hips as he gave you one punishing stroke after another. His long digits made their way back into your mane. He tugged on it pulling you up and against his chest.

“You weren’t mad. Right, mi dulce? You just wanted to get me all worked up, yeah,” he rasped sexily. His hips circled, pushing deeper, “You ain’t gotta pick fights to get slutted out, Mami,” he groaned. His free hand crept down your belly. It slipped down, down, down until it reached your bundle of nerves.

Angel pulled out slowly until it was just the tip. His lips trailed kisses over the shell of your ear, leaving a playful nibble on the lobe.

“That’s it—ain’t it, Mami? You were in the mood to be my little slut, hm?”

Angel didn’t bother waiting for a reply. His hips surged forward, slamming his length to the hilt. The moment his tip tapped against those delicate nerves, he pinched your clit. He chuckled at the piercing scream you released. Your body trembled as his fingers circled the sensitive bud. The circles stopped once you came back down. Angel laughed again as your body went limp. He held you up, brushing hair out of your face, his kisses dusting your forehead.

“You’re alright, mi dulce. You did so good for me, mami.”

Your eyes blinked as you smiled lazily. Drunk off good sex, you slurred, “Thank you, baby,” head leaning back against his chest.

Angel's voice rasped, “Oh you think we're done? Mm-mm, mi vida. We’re just getting started. You whined feeling him pulse inside you. “Don’t whine now. Worked up was what you wanted. Now you gon’ take it. Be a good girl for me and get daddy off, yeah?” Angel's voice dropped dangerously low as he whispered, “I’m going to fill you up, and then you’re going to clean up your mess. Put that pretty mouth to use.”

Angel’s words must have replenished your energy. Your lip tucked between your teeth, as your channel spasmed around him.

“Seems like you're ready for it after all,” he replied, giving you light strokes.

Being petty came with the loveliest of benefits. Here’s to hoping this man fucks up again.

How did we like it, lovelies?! Comments and reblogs are GREATLY appreciated💖.

My Lovelies (Tagging)💓:

@darqchilddaydreamz @ravennaortiz @astoldbychae @thirtysomethinganduncensored @sunshine-flower @hornyslasher

@playgurlxoxo @cosypinky2 @thebumbqueen @tashawar

@jup1ter1nk @badgalbeyy @wbbwife @becauseimher

@phomoe @beachyserasims @tbmotw @baddieweebwaifu4

@sweetmems3 @moo-meadows @kj77 @vampkennedy

@black-bisexual-simp @cocooned-butterfly @thatbrowngruul

@booksandlatenights @jayblackpanther @percosim

@glimmerglittergirl @yoshiluvs @diamoniquehayes

@joysmiled @mickeyme7 @lovearynacemn @cjricks98

@alika-4466 @hope4rain19 @bl00dr3gin @3xclusivemariii

@1andonlytashae @greasemonkeydarling @hennyjwrites

@montegobaesworld @po3ticb3auty @trunichole15

@missbee1095 @thebaileybugle @tbugger01 @gabbywontlose

@buttershea07 @joyfulfxckery @starrynite7114 @niaaalovesficton

@nightlywords7 @introvertllux @ticosas @chxrryp0p

@olyvoyl

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silassinclair · 6 months

Text

Introduction!! Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Reader

CONTENT WARNING: Guns, Violence, Fem Reader, For 16+ Readers Preferably (Ik i cant stop you younger little shits from being here)

Mayor John L/n should have known better than to attract the attention of Maddox Graves; the West's number one most wanted criminal and outlaw. But Y/n L/n's Father, John L/n, is a fool.

It all started when John L/n rode into town on his fine horse. Tonight he was going to drink at the bar and chat with the other townspeople about some small town drama. When John arrived outside the saloon however he noticed all of the posts had horses tied to them already. John looks around and sees a free spot! Just as John hopped off his horse to tie the rope around the wood post another man beat him too it.

The man shoulder checked John as he tied his black horse to the post.

“Hey I was about to tie my horse there you brute! And how dare you hit me!” John says angrily.

"I had my horse tied here first old man. Go find some place else to tie yours." The Mexican American man says; his accented voice rich and deep. The bottom half of his face is concealed by a dark red bandana. His cowboy hat is a dark brown color, a contrast to the black attire he adorns.

"Do you know who I am young man? I own this town! Now get your filthy horse out of my way before I teach you a lesson!" Mayor L/n shouts aggressively.

The outlaw frowns disapprovingly under the cloth of his bandana. This greedy old fart dare insult his stallion? And threaten him?

The outlaw brings his masked face close to the older man, making the older man back up nervously. Bringing his rugged hands to his hips the outlaw moves his long black leather jacket to the side, revealing one of his two revolvers. Each revolver being a stunning silver color with black metal engravings. No other gunman in the west had such weapons, no one other than Maddox Graves.

The mayor notices the shining gun and he gasps in fear for his life. "Those guns! Y-You’re M-Maddox Graves!" He shouts in newfound fright.

"That's right old man. You fucked with the wrong guy. Telling me to move my horse and insulting him in such a way? You're a real old fart I tell ya. Ya had some real balls o’ steel to threaten me too." The outlaw says as he pats the back of his midnight black stallion.

The mayor doesn’t waste a second as he goes to his horse as quick as possible. He gets on it's saddle to ride off. Luckily, he escapes the outlaw. However the outlaw already knows where the mayor lives.

And he will not let him get away with what he has done. No one disrespects Maddox Graves unless they want to end up in their own grave.

"Father? Are you alright?" A young woman says. The woman's name is Y/n L/n, and she's the one and only daughter of Mayor John L/n. In this shit stain of a small town that is on the bottom corner of maps, she brings light and joy. The townspeople adore her presence and work ethic. Though she is wealthy and the daughter of the mayor she does volunteer work in local farms and helps look after the town’s children.

Though Y/n L/n has no Mother, not anymore. So John L/n protects her with his life. She’s all he has left and he may have just lost her tonight for what he has done.

"How can I be so foolish?! Oh god what have I done!" The old man says in despair as he rushes over to his daughter. He embraces her in a desperate hug which she returns gently with a pat to his sweating back.

"Father whatever is the matter? What has you in such a stress?" She asks with genuine concern.

The old man holds her plush face gently in his wrinkled palms. He gazes into her eyes, for it may be the final time he get to do so.

"I have made a mistake Y/n... I insulted a dangerous outlaw and he may come here to our home. I need you to hide okay... Whatever you hear, do not leave your hiding spot."

Y/n feels her Father tremble. "Father I don't understand! Please whatever it is let me hel-"

"NO! I CAN HEAR HIS HORSE OUTSIDE! GO UPSTAIRS AND HIDE NOW!"

The poor young woman yelps as her Father pushes her away. She is about to argue but the desperation in his eyes makes her only nod and run up the stairs and do as she's told. Y/n goes to her bedroom and opens the door to her oak wardrobe. She hides behind a few gowns and shuts the door enough for there to be a crack.

There are sounds of talking downstairs. Y/n can hear the voice of her Father and another. The other voice is deeper and strikes fear into her core. She can hear how desperate her Father is as he pleads for his life.

“You got a little girl right? Would be a shame if she lost her Father.” The deep voice says.

“Yes! So please spare me Graves! I’ll give you money, anything you want! So please leave us in peace!” The old man begs on his knees.

“Hmmm.” The dark outlaw ponders.

BANG

Y/n covers her mouth as she yelps in horror at the sound of the gunshot. Her body trembled, the silence now was frightening. No longer did she hear the sound of her Father begging for his life. All that was left was a deadly silence.

Her Father was dead.

“Come out girl! Your Father isn’t dead~ He’s just sleeping.” Maddox taunts as he blows the smoke from the end of his gun before returning it to its holster.

Tears fell from Y/n’s eyes as she struggled to steady her breathing. She could hear his footsteps ascending the stairs. Slow, and taunting. He was taking his time.

“I don’t like playing games. Now come out before I kill you.”

The hiding woman refused to make a sound. Her survival instinct made her once trembling body as still as a statue when she heard his footsteps enter her room. She felt frozen as his steps stopped right outside the closet door.

“I know you’re in here little girl. Now come out.”

She didn’t.

“Okay, you asked me to do this.”

Light flooded into the wardrobe as Maddox nearly ripped the doors off the hinges from swinging it open so hard and fast. Inside he heard the scream of a woman and suddenly a boot clad foot coming out from behind gowns kicked him in the groin. Keeling over in pain he clutched his jewels and fell on his knees.

“OO- YOU BITCH!” He yells. His eyes widen when he sees her though. She peeks her head out from behind the dresses and gowns. Her face is soft and stained with dry tears. Rather than a young girl who he thought, it was a pretty woman who looked to be a few years younger than him.

“You’re a disgusting man!” She says angrily and runs out of the closet past the kneeling outlaw. Dashing down the stairs she sees her Father on the ground, bleeding from his side.

“Father!” She calls to him desperately as she kneels by his side and cradles his head. He’s still breathing, thank god. But he’s losing a lot of blood. So Y/n grabs the hem of her dress and tears off a strip of the fabric and ties it around his torso.

“I-I’ll run to town and call for a doctor Father.” She says with a weak smile. His eyes are closed, he seems to have passed out from shock.

Just as Y/n stood up to run out the door to get help a gunshot rings out and the bullet hits the doorknob she was just about the grab. Whipping her body back in shock she looks up and sees Maddox at the top of the staircase, his smoking gun aimed at her.

“You’re a wild one aren’t you missy?” He says with a smirk. A freshly lit cigar hangs from his mouth.

Y/n stands by the door as still as a statue as Maddox comes down the stairs. Now standing before her the height difference is very stark. Her head only reaches his shoulders.

“Let me leave… My Father is dying. I need to get to a doctor.” She says with a wavering voice.

Maddox blows smoke in her face and laughs.

“He may as well be already dead girly. He’s lost a lot of blood. And besides, even if you did make it to town you would come home to him dead. There ain’t enough time for dilly-dally.”

He was right, unfortunately. Y/n tried her best to hold back her tears. She had to stay strong, she couldn’t show weakness to this bloodthirsty killer. But she could only handle so much.

She looks behind the outlaw and sees her Father grow more pale as the seconds tick by. The moment she noticed her Father’s chest still… and a final breath escape his lips.. Y/n felt like her life was over. Her Father was dead. All hope is lost for her as she crumbles like an ancient statue.

“F-Father, my Father is dead! You killed him-!” She breaks down and grips her hair in her hands, sinking to the floor. Maddox only watches with a small grin as he tosses the cigar to the side.

“He was an old man who was gon’ kick the bucket soon anyway. I only sped up the process a lil’ princess.” Maddox says with a mocking coo. But Y/n looks up at him with a piercing glare. Her hands turn to fists and she strikes. Her fist collides with his face, causing him to whip his head to the side. Y/n stills as she awaits his reaction. He is eerily silent and his downcast gaze is dark.

But then she is suddenly met with a chuckle. His deep, rich laugh radiates throughout the home. Like an infection that invades the young woman’s eardrums. She can’t stand it.

“You hit hard little lady, I like that in a woman.” Maddox grips her chin, squeezing her face and puckering her lips.

“Such soft lips… Wonder how they’d feel against mine. Poor lil thang like you needs a strong man in her life.” His condescending tone sparks rage in Y/n. This man, no… this beast. This murderer. She needs to take revenge. To kill the man who killed her Father in cold blood. But not now. No, she would have to wait. She needs the right moment to strike.

And she doesn’t mind playing the long game. She’ll play along for now.

Hey yall, it’s me. I’m SLACKING so hard. School and work has been busting my balls and writers block is eating me alive. But this Oc got me out of the gutter. Hopefully yall like him! I plan to write for him more.

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere cowboy #yandere outlaw #fem reader #obsession

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haodore · 1 year

Note

hellooo can i request a le sserafim x reader where reader usually wears oversized stuff but then one day they wore like a crop top and it shows like their abs

jaw dropping ; le sserafim

⇢ le sserafim finding out you have abs

𓂃 ⋆ 𓈒 masterlist

⌁ genre: fluff, romantic.

⌁ 0.7k words

! : gn r. r wears cropped tops.

✐ okay listen… i know my requests are closed, but this one was just too good to wait too long on. thank you dear anon for the request 🙏

MIYAWAKI SAKURA

When you decided you change your attire for the day, wearing something a bit different, you didn’t think it was going to affect your day the way it did. You were wearing a crop top, one that only showed the smallest amount of your stomach. You decided to get your favourite snack from the cupboard, not thinking about how reaching for it would cause your shirt to ride up, exposing your entire stomach. Sakura walked in at that moment, jaw dropping, eyes widening. When you retrieved your snacked, seeing her staring at you, you paused in shock. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

She simply continued to stare at your toned stomach, laughing lightly. “How did I not know how fit you were?”

KIM CHAEWON

You had two lunches prepared in your bag. One for yourself, and one for Chaewon. You decided to bring Chaewon something to eat today, which is something you did when you could. You were allowed in the building because of the fact that you’ve done this before, and the staff knew who you were.

Today your shirt was cropped. Your entire stomach was exposed, and it was a type of shirt you hadn’t worn yet, but you liked it. You felt confident.

You found Chaewon doing vocal lessons, and when you knocked, then opened the door, you heard the loudest gasp. It was dramatic, as well. You looked up from your hand on the door handle to find the most wide-eyed Chaewon you’d ever seen, and your jaw dropped slightly as you spluttered, realizing she was staring at your abs.

“How did I not know?” She said. She then laughed, seeing your reaction. She then saw the lunch you were holding out for her, and smiled warmly, thanking you and kissing you on the cheek.

HUH YUNJIN

One morning you had woken up before Yunjin, simply changing into one of her crop tops and a pair of sweatpants before your exited the room. You decided to make french toast for you both, hoping to surprise her before she woke up. You knew you had failed when you heard her footsteps behind you and she entered the kitchen, wrapping her arms around you from behind. She rested her hands on your stomach, freezing momentarily, and then she gasped. She lightly rubbed her hand on your stomach, and then turned you around so that you faced her. She made a noise of surprise, pulling you close to her.

“You look good in my shirt, y’know?”

NAKAMURA KAZUHA

It was quite random, really. You had the genius idea to see who could hold a longer handstand. Kazuha was all for it.

She had held it for quite an impressive time, but you were determined to beat it. What you didn’t think about was how your shirt wasn’t form fitted, and you didn’t tuck it into your pants either, so when you went into your handstand it exposed your stomach, your shirt falling until it stopped at the bottom of your ribs. Kazuha let out a noise of surprise, seeing your toned stomach (bonus: she also saw the way your arms flexed as you held your handstand).

“Since when… why don’t you work out with me?”

“Are you kidding? Your workout routine is brutal.” You replied, falling out of your handstand.

“Oh, I won.” She giggled.

HONG EUNCHAE

You and Eunchae tried your best to have a movie night as often as you could. Your schedules often clashed, but when you two found the time to watch something new or something you both loved, they were moments you cherished.

As you were getting ready for tonight’s movie, you didn’t realize that when you lied down on the couch, your shirt had moved up a bit, exposing some of your stomach.

A voice from behind you made you smile. “Popcorn~” Eunchae said, in the cutest way possible (everything she did was cute). Then, you heard a gasp, and her footsteps paused as she stopped in place. A moment later she giggled going towards you, putting the popcorn on the coffee table, and sitting on the couch you were laying on. She patted your toned stomach and laughed, not in a mocking way though.

“I didn’t know you had abs.”

@ sakufilms

#♡.lsfm #le sserafim #miyawaki sakura #kim chaewon #huh yunjin #nakamura kazuha #hong eunchae #le sserafim x y/n #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim x you #le sserafim x yn #miyawaki sakura x reader #kim chaewon x reader #huh yunjin x reader #nakamura kazuha x reader #hong eunchae x reader #fluff #all my works

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yuurei20 · 1 month

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Malleus Facts Part 38: NRC

Malleus did not come to NRC to study academics (“There hardly seems to be much at all I could learn from this school…”), and Lilia explains that he was enrolled in order to broaden his horizons.

Lilia points out that Malleus would not have gone to the trouble of leaving Briar Valley if it was merely knowledge that he sought. Lilia says, “Reach deep within and ponder it seriously. The truth is, you…” but he does not finish the sentence.

Malleus says that there is nothing for him to learn from a magic perspective, and NRC is moreso an opportunity for social studies via experiences such as the Spelldrive tournaments, cultural festival, Halloween events, birthday interviews and more.

Lilia seems to be trying to teach Malleus about coming to terms with loneliness in Book 6, saying that he must accept how different the world is going to be in the next hundred years or so and Malleus responds, “I know. That’s why I enrolled in this school.”

Lilia is often encouraging Malleus to try new experiences such as pursuing a fourth-year internship, attending the Noble Bell College social and inviting him to the Firelit Sky event.

Things we see Malleus experience for the first time include riding in a car, wearing traditional attire of another country, shopping for a souvenir, the whipped-cream-based custom of the second birthday series and selling goods at a festival.

Malleus says that the Culinary Crucible elective was also “more akin to a social studies lesson,” as he normally never cooks for himself.

Lilia comments that Malleus’ bickering with Leona is “precisely the kind of experience he needs,” and reminds him that he needs to adjust to human culture when Malleus becomes frustrated with the fragility of his smartphone.

During Glorious Masquerade Malleus tells Deuce that he is a student just iike the rest of them, and it took courage for him to enroll at NRC: “I’d never experienced living in a place with so many people before.”

#twstfacts #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #twstmalleus #malleusfacts

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folkloristico · 2 months

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Daphne Redesign

Nymph Dress

This one’s still an outfit and not her Nymph transformation. She wears this attire during her time on Andros, where she studies to become a Nymph. (That is because to become a Nymph, you need to meet some requirements; Sirenix is among them, and only on Andros can you obtain your Sirenix.)

Casual Dress

This one is more of an everyday attire she wears on Domino when she’s at the palace.

The necklace—which she always wears, only tucked under her clothes—is a sword. Marion gave it to her as a gift; it’s very important to their family, and Daphne is very fond of it.

Riding Attire

Pretty self-explanatory. Despite being a fairy and having wings, Daphne loves riding. As she grows older, it’s one of the rare moments she has alone with her father, who taught her how to ride.

(Oritel and Marion used to go riding when they were still getting to know each other and Marion wanted to show him around the kingdom. But at some point, Marion’s horse—the one she’d been riding since childhood—died, and she was so heartbroken she didn’t feel like she wanted another one. Besides, as queen, she’s quite busy as she is, and prefers flying anyway.)

Sword-fighting Attire

This one’s pretty self-explanatory as well. Daphne wears it during her sword-fighting lessons with Hagen. Sometimes she spars with her mother and father as well, though. Oritel is the better of the two; Marion has always favoured her own magic over weapons.

Traditional Dress (with royal mantle)

Both are worn during festivities, ceremonials, and official events. There’s one for different occasions. This one is worn during the celebration that precedes the beginning of the year, when fires are lit all over the kingdom, and the people of Domino burn puppets that are made to resemble the dead that they have lost within the curring year. Their ashes burn for say, and they are said to chase away the cold season.

#winx daphne #winx redesign #winx domino #winx worldbuilding #art tag

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

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𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre! Outbreak Joel x horseback riding instructor f!reader

A/N: I did not plan for this to be over 4k words. LOL enjoy ♡

~word count : 4.3k~

Summary: Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.

Warnings: soft! Joel, shy! Joel, fluff, flirting, slow burn, eventual established relationship, single! Father Joel, protective! Joel, he’s so sweet your teeth will hurt! Joel, eventual smut, some angst, no y/n, +18 minors dni !

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

It was around 2:30 the next afternoon that Joel Miller had given you a ring. You were on your well deserved lunch break after Javi P put you through absolute hell. Why you thought it was going to be an easy hack session with him, was beyond you. Javi P never made anything easy, but you were determined to show this horse some good in his life. He’d been through hell in the racing industry, and it left a bad taste in your mouth just knowing how disposable he and his brother were to their old owners.

When your ringtone blared, you nearly lost hold of your sandwich as you grabbed your phone, answering it on the second ring.

“Hey darlin’ it’s Joel; Joel Miller. The uh–the guy who called ya yesterday about getting his daughter some ridin’ lessons?”

You honest to god thought it was fucking adorable that Joel even thought for a minute that you weren’t gonna remember him. You most definitely had not been thinking about this man all day after your phone call. No way, that definitely wasn’t you.

“Hey, Joel! I take it I left a good impression on you yesterday?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he was parked in front of Sarah’s school, waiting for her. “Yeah, you uh–most definitely did. Anyway, i’m waitin’ to pick my daughter up and then we were gonna head over, if that still works for you?”

“Oh, perfect! Yeah, that still works for me! I’ll meet you out front when you get here, and then we’ll do the tour, sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Just wanted to y’know check in and make sure that I wasn’t inconveniencing you or anythin’ like that.”

“Well, I appreciate you calling, but I hate to break it to you, I don’t do much around here for you to be inconveniencing me.”

“I’m sure that ain’t true. You seem to uh–really enjoy what you do, which is hard for a lot of folks to say. Don’t sell yourself short, and just from our conversation yesterday, can tell that you really care about the horses, even when you’re threatenin’ to turn one of ‘em into glue.”

You let out a light laugh, biting the tip of your nail because woo doggy, Joel Miller was a total fucking sweetheart in your books, and you still hadn’t met this man in person.

“Thanks, Joel. I appreciate you saying that. You’re not gonna let me live down the glue thing, huh?”

“Anytime, darlin’ and oh, no I will not be letting you live that one down.” He looked out the driver side window when he saw Sarah walking up and he reached over, unlocking the passenger side door for her. “Hey, Sarah just got outta school, S’okay that she’s not like in uh–proper ridin’ stuff?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine! Jeans and a t-shirt are the most comfortable option. We’ll get her fitted for a helmet as well, if you guys end up choosing our place that is.”

“Oh, sweet. Didn’t know if there was like a strict attire or anythin’ like that and I got a good feelin’ that we’re gonna be seein’ a lot more of each other.”

“Nah, we’re not like the hunter jumper barns. As long as she has closed-toed shoes, she’s good.” Your heart may or may not have skipped a beat when Joel Miller casually stated that he had a feeling you were going to see each other a lot more. Damn these southern charm Texas men.

“Alright, awesome. Pickin’ her up now, see ya in a bit!”

“See you in a bit, Joel!”

He hung up just as Sarah had climbed into the passenger seat and buckled herself in.

“Who were you on the phone with?” She took notice that her dad had a slight blush to his cheeks and she couldn’t help but grin and give him a little shoulder punch.

“Just got off the phone with your potential new ridin’ instructor. I think you’re really gonna like her, kiddo. She seems pretty cool.”

“You’re blushing dad, you know that? Right here!” She playfully poked his dimple.

“Am not! Just a little hot in here. Sweatin’ bullets.”

“Sureeeee it’s just the heat, you’re so right!”

He gave his daughter a playful warning look while he reached over and ruffled her head of curls.

“I ain’t blushin’ I don’t blush!”

“Okaaay dad, whatever you say!”

Joel Miller was not blushing. Like he said, he doesn’t blush. It was just the hot Texas air that had him feeling all flustered.

You quickly finished what was left of your sandwich, checking the time as you tidied up your desk. You grabbed your phone and slipped it back into your jeans pocket as you headed out of the makeshift office, and into the aisle way of the stalls.

“Listen up fellas, we have a potential new client coming through in about 20 minutes, and i’m expecting all of you to be on your very best behavior.” You looked directly at Javi P as you spoke. “Yeah bud, I'm talking to you specifically. We are NOT biting any kids today, alright?”

Javi P looked displeased, and if horses had hands, he would most definitely would be flipping you off right now.

You spent the next 20 minutes sweeping the aisle way, wanting everything to look presentable as possible. You heard the sound of truck tires under loose gravel and you just had a feeling it was Joel Miller.

“Alright boys, it's showtime!”

Sarah was telling her dad another horse fact from her book when they were getting out of his truck. “Dad, this one is super cool! Did you know that horse hooves are made from the same protein as human hair and fingernails? That’s one big finger nail!”

Joel had let out a laugh, his eyes crinkled up a bit in the corners as he shook his head. “Think that protein is called keratin? Sounds about right to me.”

“Keratin! Yeah, that’s what it's called!”

He observed the area then and took notice of the blooming flowers in the front of the stables, and the overall comforting vibe this place had. He could hear the familiar sound of a horse whinnying. The distinct barn smell didn’t even have him turning up his nose, and in a way, he found it oddly comforting.

His head turned in the direction of the door opening as you stepped outside. You were wearing light washed jeans that definitely were well worn, a loose graphic tee, Star Wars to be specific. The fabric was faded, but he could make out the image of two X-Wings. So, you were a nerd too, just another added bonus.

Your jeans were a bit dirty from your fall off of Javi P earlier, and you were certain that your hair probably looked insane, but Joel wasn’t expecting you to walk out in a mini skirt and stilettos, that was damn sure.

“Joel? Hey, nice to put a face to the name!” You held your hand out to him and he grasped it in his larger one. He had a firm grip, and his palms were well worn, a little calloused. Not that you were paying attention to those little details or anything.

He was undeniably handsome. A tall fucking glass of water, as you would describe him to your friends later over drinks. He had deep, warm, inviting brown eyes, a good structured jaw, and a killer smile. One that would definitely make any girl weak in the knees.

Joel already knew what you looked like from your bio on the website, but in person? You were even prettier. Joel had been so focused on his job, and caring for his daughter, that he never really saved any room for himself. He hadn’t gone on a proper date in god knows how long, but he just had a feeling that maybe you were gonna change that for him.

He smiled as you shook hands before he gestured to his daughter, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Hey, nice to meet ya! This is my daughter Sarah. Newly horse obsessed as you already know.”

Sarah swatted at her dad’s arm playfully and stuck her tongue out at him. “Dad, don’t embarrass me!”

You couldn't help but laugh as you watched their interaction. It was clear Joel and his daughter were very close. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about kiddo. I, too, am horse obsessed. Would even go as far to say that I am horse crazy.”

Sarah let out a huff, crossing her arms over her chest with a small smile. “Yeah, okay. Guess there is nothing to be embarrassed about. Horses are pretty freaking cool!”

You nodded. “They are super freaking cool! You guys wanna head in and I'll give you a tour?”

Sarah was already grabbing her dad’s hand as you led the dad daughter duo inside the main building.

“We’ve been in business for a little over a decade now. We’re family owned and a non-profit and all of the horses here were rescued from various situations. We focus heavily on good horsemanship skills, positivity and creating a safe, judgment free zone. We currently have 6 horses at our facility. All at different skill levels, but 5 out of the 6 are extremely beginner friendly.”

Joel had his hands shoved in his jean pockets as you spoke, he was attentively listening to everything you were saying.

“Did you rescue them all yourself?” He asked.

“Yep, every single one of them. Not all at once, but I'd get a tip from someone in the business about an upcoming auction, or abandoned barn, and I'd be there. I’ve traveled across the country for a couple of them, and I wish I could rescue every horse, but I do what I can y’know?”

“I understand. It’s great that you’ve given ‘em a second chance at life and a fresh start.”

You held the door open for them as you led them into the aisle way where the stalls were located. “Yeah, I agree with you. They deserve so much more than to just be thrown away like that. These boys are some of the luckier ones.”

All 6 of the horses had stuck their heads out of their stall doors to see who was coming and Sarah’s little heart was already melting.

“So like I was saying, we have 6 horses currently. Their names are Frankie, Dieter, Whiskey, Javi P, Javi G, and finally, Ezra.”

You brought them over to the first stall which was Frankies. He was a bay, tobiano paint. He had one blue eye, and one brown eye. You leaned against the side of his stall door as he peeked his head out over the side, nickering softly at you.

“This is Frankie, he’s our newest recruit. Just actually picked him up from Utah a little over a month ago.” You gave him a gentle pat on the neck. “He’s about 20 years old, in horse years and he’s a sweetheart. He was a little girl’s birthday present and he was well loved up until he spooked one day. She fell off and broke her arm and her parents deemed him to be ‘unsafe.’ He would have been on his way to Mexico if it wasn’t for me. I’m working on doing some desensitizing training with him as he doesn’t handle loud, sudden noises very well. He loves kids though.

Sarah frowned as she listened to you talk about Frankie and what would have almost happened to him.

“It wasn’t his fault that he spooked, right?”

“No kiddo. It’s never the horses fault and we gotta remember that their prey animals. If they feel like they’re in danger, or threatened, their natural instinct is to run.”

“Can I pet him?”

“Course you can. Here, he’ll love you forever if you give him one of these.” You reached into your pocket, pulling out a carrot and snapped it in half, handing her the one piece. “You’re gonna want to hold your hand out flat, tuck your thumb under your fingers cause you don’t want him accidentally biting them.”

Sarah nodded as she walked to his stall door, holding the carrot out to Frankie like you said and when he had licked her hand as he grabbed the carrot, she let out a soft giggle.

Joel had the softest fucking smile on his face just from seeing his baby girl happy like this.

“Next we have Dieter. This guy? He’s a little trickster and he’s pretty damn good at it. Loves to steal things out of your pockets if you’re not careful. I’ve caught him nearly escaping at least a dozen times. Had to really get creative with the locks on his stall. He used to be a lesson horse at a hunter jumper barn not far from here. The schooling shows really started to wear him down and they felt like he was useless after that.”

“Woah, he has a mohawk! That’s so cool! What kind of horse is he?” Sarah asked.

“He’s a Norwegian Fjord. He’s in between the size of a standard horse and a large pony. They typically have longer manes but due to the weather, we keep his trimmed so he doesn’t overheat. Plus, I think he enjoys having a mohawk, wouldn’t you say?”

Sarah didn’t hesitate to give Dieter a soft stroke on the side of his neck and she looked back at her dad with a small grin.

“I think he looks very punk rock, whad’ya think dad?”

“Very punk rock. He pulls it off pretty well I think.”

Whiskey, who’s stall was next to Dieter’s, was pawing impatiently at the ground.

“Ahh yes, good old Whiskey boy. He can be a bit of a handful at times, but he has a super smooth gait due to his breed.”

“When you talk about a horse's gait, are you uh–are you talkin’ about their movement? What makes him different from the rest?” Joel asked.

You looked over at him with a smile and nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Their gait is their natural movement. Whiskey is a Tennessee Walking Horse, and his natural gait differs between a flat walk, running walk, and a canter. He’s best suited for the trails and easy flat work. This guy was rescued from the ‘Big Lick’ industry. His gait is naturally high stepping but to enhance it for shows, trainers would use chains, heavy boots, and chemicals on his fetlocks in order to have him step higher. The practice is considered cruel, for obvious reasons, but people get away with it often. He went lame at one point and was thrown into auction.”

Joel had frowned as he listened to Whiskey’s story. It left a bad taste in his mouth that people could be so cruel to an animal like that.

“So, these guys really have been through hell, huh?”

“Unfortunately they have. Trust me, I get angry just thinking about what they went through.”

“Well, they’re certainly lucky that they have you, darlin. I like his coat color. That’s the proper term ain’t it?”

You almost felt a blush creep up your neck when he called you darlin again. At least you could blame it on the sweltering heat. Not because of Joel Miller and his smooth Texas drawl.

“Coat color is the correct term, yeah. He’s a dappled palomino. I call him honey sometimes because of his color, and because he’s as sweet as honey. A little bit of a flirt as well, a ladies man you might say.”

“He definitely gives off the ‘pretty’ boy vibes.” Joel said with a chuckle.

Before he, or Sarah could walk to the next stall, you put your arm out in front of them protectively, just as Javi P had lunged his head out, with his ears pinned back against his head, baring his teeth.

“I told him to be on his best behavior but I swear, this horse never listens.”

Joel was more focused on your soft grip on his bicep to even process the angry beast in front of them.

“Is this the horse you threatened to turn into glue yesterday?” Joel asked in a joking manner.

Sarah let out a shocked gasp.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I wasn’t actually gonna turn him into glue. He just isn’t the friendliest as you can see.” You gently released Joel’s bicep from your grip. “This is Javi P, he’s an OTTB, better known as an off the track thoroughbred. He was gonna make it big in Kentucky and would have sold for millions if it wasn’t for his accident. His jockey was well known for, to put it lightly, and please excuse my French, an asshole. This guy was too young to even be on the track. His bones weren’t even fully formed, nor able to withstand the pressure. He wiped out on a mud track a year ago, and knocked his jockey out. If they would have given him more time, and switched Jockey’s, he probably would have had a successful racing career.”

“I take it he doesn’t trust humans very well because of that? I mean, I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

“He’s incredibly weary of men especially. It’s really unfortunate because I know underneath all his meanness, there’s a really good horse. I’ve just been trying to chip away at his rough exterior, bit by bit. He threw me off earlier this morning, but it was my fault. Lost my footing in the stirrup and he flipped.”

“Jesus, are you alright?”

“Me? Oh, yeah I'm good. I’ve experienced a lot of falls in my life. Just comes with the job honestly.”

“Just about how many times have you fallen off? If ya don’t mind me askin’ that is.”

“Oh gosh, uhhh I'm not sure if I can count them on both hands. At least 20. Maybe a little less than 50. It happens but the main thing is, I've gotten back on everytime.”

“Woah, you’ve fallen off that many times and you aren’t scared or anything? Okay, my dad was totally right, you are so cool!”

Now you were actually feeling flustered, and Joel might have been as well but you couldn’t exactly tell. “I was definitely scared the first few times and I was afraid to get back on, but I pushed through it. What’s this about me being totally cool? Your dad is right on the money with that one, I am the coolest.”

Joel cleared his throat a little while he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright, I will admit that I told Sarah you were cool. I mean, you left an impression on me after our phone call, and you know so much about horses so yeah, I’d say you’re pretty cool.”

Sarah gave her dad a funny look then, only one that he could see.

“Is Javi G related to Javi P?” She asked, walking up to the other chestnut thoroughbred and he had lowered his head down towards her, brushing his soft, velvet nose against her palm.

“Yep, they’re brothers with totally opposite personalities. Javi G was let go because he was deemed to be too “sweet” for racing. He’s honestly a huge goober. If you give him kisses, he gives them right back.”

Sarah had given his nose a quick peck and he returned it against her palm, licking her hand.

“See? Told ya, he gives them right back!”

Sarah giggled as he licked her palm. “That tickles!” She wiped her wet palm on the side of her jeans. “I think I like him the most so far! Or Frankie, he was very sweet.”

“I think Whiskey is my favorite so far. I’m Jealous of how fantastic his hair looks.”

“Dad, it's not his hair, it's his mane!”

Joel held his hands up in defense with a small grin on his lips.

“Ohh, my bad for not gettin’ the term correct, my deepest apologies!”

“Yeah, Joel! Get with the program!” You chimed, your tone light and playful as you stopped at the last stall. Ezra was already nuzzling his nose into your shoulder, giving you an affectionate push.

“Oh, wow. He’s so pretty! It looks like he has a heart on his head, you see that dad?” Sarah pointed to the heart shaped star on Ezra’s forehead.

“Oh, yeah he does! Recognize him from the photo on the website.” ‘Yeah, the one that you have been staring at for the past 24 hours, Miller.’ He thought to himself.

“This is my boy, Ezra. He’s a 16 hand high Hanoverian and he was making it big in the hunter jumper world for a few years. He used to compete all through the country and was well on his way to competing in Europe.” You gave him a pat on his neck, pulled out the other half of the carrot and fed it to him. “Sometimes horses give you signs that they’re tired, that they don’t want to work anymore. Ezra was giving all those signs and his owner refused to see them until it was pretty much too late. He passed out during a show from exhaustion and being overworked. Now, he gets to live comfortably and he enjoys being ridden again.”

Joel could tell how much these horses truly meant to you, just by the way you spoke about all of them. He admired your passion for giving them a second chance at life. This just confirmed to him that he definitely would be seeing a lot more of you.

After the tour, Joel felt comfortable leaving Sarah to spend some time with Ezra while you and him talked over the logistics.

“I gotta say, you really sold this place for me darlin’ and I think Sarah would be absolutely lucky to be trained under you. Y’know I'm usually super critical over these things, for obvious reasons, but I trust you already and I know she’s in good hands.”

You were in disbelief as you walked alongside him.

“Really? Well, I gotta say, that's a relief. I got a little worried that maybe I was taking it too far with telling you guys about each of the horses stories but honestly, it's necessary. I can’t tell you how many potential clients have rolled through here and lasted maybe a day before switching to a hunter jumper barn. So I truly appreciate you saying that. I think Sarah is going to love it here, and I would be more than happy to be her instructor.”

“Honestly? I’m just relieved you didn’t try and sugar coat anythin’ I appreciate the fact that you didn’t try to make yourself, or this place sound like somethin’ it's not. If that makes any sense? You’re just, uh–very personable? I apologize if i’m oversteppin’ with ya darlin’ I don’t mean to ramble.”

You laughed as you looked over at him and nodded. “I totally understand what you’re trying to get at Joel. So basically, I’m not a snobby asshole that’s just in it for the money?”

“Well, that is one way to put it. I could also tell by your shirt that you weren’t gonna be the prissy type. Can’t stand those kinda girls honestly. You’re definitely in it for the horses, and the experience.”

You were feeling flustered by this man’s words, and there was no way you could hide it. “What about the shirt you gave me away? C’mon, I'm curious to know what your first impression of me really was.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was the two X-Wings on your shirt? Just a simple observation. Gotta ask, what’s your favorite of the franchise thus far?”

“Damn X-Wings giving away all my deepest, darkest secrets. Oh man, probably the Empire Strikes back or Return of the Jedi. The new episodes have potential though. I do like the Pod racing in The Phantom Menace.”

“You walked right on into that one darlin,’ and those are pretty solid answers. Me personally? I like the Empire Strikes Back the most. Although, they’re all good.”

“I think I respect you just a tad bit more than I already did, Joel Miller.”

“Well, I must be doin’ somethin’ right huh?”

Oh, he has no idea.

“Anyway, let’s get you situated with the paperwork and figure out a good lesson schedule?”

Joel nodded and you left his side to go and grab the paper work, waiver and other forms along with a pen and after he signed everything, you went and retrieved Sarah, who was still loving on Ezra.

You stood just outside the door of the main building, waving to Joel and Sarah as he pulled out of the parking spot.

“Well, kiddo. Your first lesson this Saturday! Signed the paperwork and everything. You excited?”

Sarah looked over at her dad with a big smile as she buckled her seatbelt. “You like her, don’t you?”

Joel stumbled over his words as he looked over at his kid momentarily.

“Now what would make ya think that? Wait, was it that obvious? Shoot! You were not supposed to hear me say that. I don’t like your riding instructor sweet pea. I just think she is a cool person ,and she definitely knows her horse stuff.”

“I knew it! You do like her! Dad, you are terrible at making things not obvious! She’s like super pretty so I totally get it! I am going to tell uncle Tommy that you have a crush!” She giggled.

“Sarah–honey, are you feelin alright? The sun isn’t gettin’ to ya is it?” He looked absolutely mortified when she said that she was going to tell his brother. “Absolutely not, you do not speak of this to uncle Tommy, ever! I ain’t got a silly little crush, kiddo. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t say anything to uncle Tommy. I pinky promise! You do have a crush though dad. It’s okay, your secret is safe with me!” She held her pinky out to him.

“I ain’t got a crush. Silly talk, sweet pea. That’s all I'm hearin’ right now.” He linked his pinky with hers.

Alright, so Joel maybe had a teeny tiny crush on his daughter’s horseback riding instructor. Just a small innocent crush that would never turn into anything..right?

Part 3:

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currentfications · 1 year

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Ocean Eyes | Part 1

Pairing: Bada Lee x Producer!Reader

Synopsis: You’re the newest member to Jam Republic Agency’s South Korean branch, starting next week as a music producer. You’ve arrived a few weeks in advance to settle into the area, and was advised by the agency to stop by JustJerk to greet another fellow member, famous choreographer Bada Lee.

Warnings: Swearing

AN: Recently relocated to this blog, hope you enjoy the read!

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Standing in front of the building, you take a deep breath and hope that the heart throb dancer you’ve seen on the dance show is as down to earth as Latrice have previously mentioned. Knowing that they are still filming the final few episodes of Street Women Fighter 2 and the possibility that the team’s schedule is jam packed, you crossed your fingers that you’ve arrived at a good time for a quick hello.

Walking into the reception area, you were greeted by the receptionist and stated your reasons of visit, along with a few administrative details. Once that is completed, you waited in front of the elevator, quickly checking your outfit. You’re wearing a turtleneck and an oversized coat, skirts with an opaque black tights underneath. Almost every inch of your skin was covered, a lesson you’ve learned during your visit to Akanen in Japan - people tend to stare a lot when you have this amount of tattoos, little artwork you’ve collected like stickers all over your body. Then there’s the intimidation factor, where people tend to find you inapprochable; you’ve decided to cover up a little for your first meet up with your agency member.

You noticed a loose shoelace right before the elevator arrived and squat down to lace up your platform boots - a signature piece on you that you never leave home without, a relic you take from your past life in Australia. The elevator dinged and you straightened yourself up to walk in.

The metal doors opened up to seven girls already inside, presumably coming up from the parking lot. Your eyes widen as you recognised the members of BEBE looking back at you, pausing their chatter to give you a polite nod. Initially planning on greeting the group leader in their studio, the sudden encounter took you by surprise. You entered the elevator with the girls and returned the greeting, only to promptly turn around to press on a random floor button. The doors closed and a moment of awkward silence filled the room.

When the elevator next opened up you excused yourself from the situation, “Have a great day lovely ladies,” came out of your mouth as you contemplated between ‘great day’ and ‘lovely day’, you marched down the corridor as the metal door slams behind you, trying to maintain your composure. As soon as the elevator moved on to the other floors you squatted down near the corridor, trying to bury your face from the encounter. You pulled out your phone to text the other Jam Republic dancer for a rant.

Y/N: LATRICE I COULDNT DO ITTTTT

Latrice: Wdym are u still standing in front of the building?

Latrice: Just walk in already u cowardly bitch 🥱

Y/N: I DID

Y/N: b-but they were just in the elevator and it was so cramped and so awkward and I freaked out 😭😭

Latrice: Ma’am are u telling me u were silent the whole elevator ride and followed them to the studio like a creep??

Y/N: What no I’m not an idiot wtf

Y/N: I went to a random floor instead

Latrice: Oh god you dumb cunt, I told u she’s really nice didn I?

Y/N: … yes :(

Y/N: … but they’re like really cute

Y/N: … and I was in an elevator with ALL 7 OF THEM

Y/N: Your honour it’s not my fault that I have problem talking to hot girls in an enclosed space

Latrice: boo, u whore

Y/N: Yes now come pick me up I know you and Kirsten are still in the area

On the other side of the elevator, the group exchanged a look and all started giggling. Your all black attire and looking statue, though did not help to make you any less intimidating, made quite an impression on the dancers. “Who’s that?” Sowoen was the first to break through the giggles. “I think I might’ve had a crush.” The youngest of the group twirled her hair between her fingers.

“Oh wow what about me?” The leader of the group interjected, her supple lips pouty, feigning a look of heartbreak.

Lusher lightly smacked their leader’s shoulder, “No but Sowoen is right, ‘lovely ladies?’ Damn that was smooth.” Tatter nodded and hummed along in agreement.

“Y’all see another tall hot dancer and have forgotten all about me, I see how it is.” Bada complaint and continued to fake-sulk. When the elevator opened up at their floor, your cotton candy perfume dissipated and the tall dancer found herself missing the sweet scent in the air.

Tatter side eyed her leader, “Emphasis on hot dancer, so you agree with our sentiment too huh-” her sentence was cut short by Bada poking her sides. “Attention ladies and gentlemen, Bada Lee has her eye on someone. I repeat, Ms. Lee is checking out someb-” the blonde was again attacked mercilessly by the taller girl.

“Excuse me I think I called first dib?” The youngest of the group protested. “I had eyes on mother first and I’ll fight.”

The group turned to her and all chimed in with disagreement, “Baby girl have you seen her? She’s gonna break your heart. I’ll have her instead.” The fox-eyed dancer added. The team laughed in unison as they got ready for the Performance Battle, putting aside their curiosity for the stranger.

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #swf2 #bada x reader #fanfic

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brabblesblog · 6 months

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 8: A ship does not sail with yesterday's wind

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

A boat ride in an old camp brings back memories and reignites new flames.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @dafna-winchester <3

The dinghy looked a tad unsafe, Ban thought, casting a sideways glance at her husband as he hopped into it; he stood there for a moment as it wobbled, then steadied. Grinning, he offered her a hand.

She frowned, taking the proffered hand, stepping into the boat. It swayed under their combined weight and she felt herself shifting off-balance; before anything could go wrong his arms wrapped around her, steadying her.

“Thanks.” She sat, adjusting her skirt, regretting choosing this dress. Astarion had said it would be a nice, wonderful evening, and to wear her best, because he wanted to go somewhere special.

It was special, she conceded, but he should have told her just how inconvenient her chosen outfit would be. His too, for that matter - he was in a crisp white ensemble, which had led her to believe they would be going somewhere… well. Not here.

“So,” she looked around, “special means a boat in the middle of nowhere, hm?”

In the tiny docks of the ruins they’d camped at in Rivington, more than a year ago, now.

The moon had always been beautiful here, she remembered, watching it bathe the landscape in its silvery glow. In front of her, Astarion tilted his head, his smile still in place. He untied the boat, but didn’t bother rowing out, allowing the current to take them away from shore. Ban supposed he was expecting they’d either mist form home or turn into bats if the current took them too far. Probably even if it didn’t; he’d been all too keen to provide opportunities for her to practice, much to her annoyance. Not that she hadn’t gotten better - flying around as a bat was much easier and more consistent, though mist form still eluded her, somehow - but she still found it tiresome.

“Well I daresay it is, wouldn’t you agree? The last place we had nothing but fond memories,” he said, the lightness in his voice sounding a tad forced. “I remember pitching our tent in that corner by Gale’s, and-”

“And yes,” she laughed, “he hated hearing us every damn night.”

And oh, how Astarion had loved it. Those last days before they’d moved into the Elfsong were special indeed; the tension around facing Cazador and the Netherbrain had yet to come to a head. Those final nights, when Astarion had finally been ready to let her touch him, give him pleasure and love him - they were glorious.

She watched him as he chuckled at her words, then took her hand in both of his. “I recall vividly,” he said, thumbs kneading her knuckles, massaging gently.

“You could have at least told me to dress down, however,” she grumbled.

He shook his head. “No. This is special, and our attire matches the occasion.”

Occasion? She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. “Not an occasion occasion, mind. I thought we should revisit this place; you’ve been rather… bothered… by the prospect of your family visiting on the morrow, and this was a small distraction that was easy to do. There is also the matter of your continued lessons, of course,” and he smirked when she scowled. “You do need practice, darling; a fair amount of it, if I am to be completely honest.”

Ban rolled her eyes. “Yes, well. It takes time, just like you did when you first ascended.” But she was all too aware that it’d been a year and that her lack of interest in the matter is no longer excusable by their fraught relationship and her complicated feelings about her true nature.

Astarion seemed to humor her, eyes crinkling at her response. He pressed a quick, soft kiss on the back of her hand. “I would have endless ways to refute that should I choose to, but I won’t for your sake.” Instead he looked past her to the inky darkness of the water below, to the other boats further down the river, and finally turned to look at the moon.

“I know you find it… challenging, to think about Roderich and your family,” he began, keeping his eyes skyward. “I merely hoped being here would help somewhat in easing your concerns and bring you some measure of comfort. The palace is our home, but I am aware it may not have as many fond memories as this place does.”

She considered this for a moment. “You’re not wrong,” she conceded, “however, this place also reminds me that this was the last time we were ever truly alright.”

The hands massaging hers tightened for a moment, the motion stilling abruptly. He turned to face her, expression carefully schooled into neutrality. “Even now, love? Even after all the work I.. we’ve done?”

“I mean - Astarion,” she said quickly, realizing her mistake. “We are alright now, yes. I suppose what I mean is that was the last time things were… simpler.”

“For you, perhaps,” he replied, a note of anger creeping into his tone; the rest of his words spilled out in a rush. “I, on the other hand, had everything to worry about, in case you’ve forgotten. Tell me - is the choice of opening up so easy for you, so effortless, that you’ve been remiss in remembering just how difficult it has always been for me to do so - not only the first time, but every single time, especially after you left me?”

She gasped quietly, horror blooming in her chest, realizing that this was probably what all those small moments of resentment had been about.

“Ban…” Astarion gritted out before she could say anything. He took a steadying breath, obviously trying not to let the situation escalate. “Don’t.” His eyes bore into her; there’s a hint of anger there but it’s overshadowed by desperation, a plea for her to not do what she always does when cornered.

The hand holding hers didn’t tighten further - instead it unfurled. He swallowed, shoulders stiffening and expression hardening.

“I wasn’t going to close off.” She kept her hand in his, adding the other to clasp both of his in her own. “I know…” she finally murmured. “It’s not fair, is it? That you had to give me everything, all of your past, all of yourself, so early on, just so I’d bring you into the group, protect you on the road, feed you, help you with Cazador… and then I never did the same. I still haven’t.”

“Well,” Astarion said bitterly, “there was little reason for you to do so. You could have kept your past to yourself for the rest of eternity, and there would have been no consequences. In fact,” he took a sharp, pained breath, “you can continue keeping parts of yourself hidden away from me - can continue punishing me forever. There will be no consequences for that, either.”

“Except your displeasure, your unhappiness,” Ban corrected.

“I’m not-”

“And your pain,” Ban interjected before he could continue. “That’s the more important part. The worst part.”

Silence from her husband; he fixed her with an unreadable expression, shoulders still held in that hard, regal pose. Unsure, her mind offered, of what you’re trying to do here, and shielding himself from the blow, a blow so expected as to be considered inevitable.

A soft sigh escaped her and she squeezed his hands, pressing them together. “I’m sorry. That it took this long, that I never offered to… to give as I took, to make it a more equal exchange. Not just in regards to my past, but… also in our relationship.” He’d always been on the back foot, she realized. First seeking her protection, then her help in freeing himself, and then in winning her back, in keeping her happy, hiding his own fear and resentment, all so she wouldn’t leave again. The thought caused a crushing wave of guilt.

“Equal exchange,” he laughed out. “It’s never been that, darling, and I don’t delude myself into thinking it will ever be.” The crimson of his eyes stood out in the moonlight as he stared at her, defensive and resigned. “I don’t hold you responsible; circumstances dictated that I share my predicament with you and with everyone we traveled with, were I to receive any aid. After that, well,” he shifted, the first break in his nonchalant charade, “I suppose I hid myself so deeply that the only recompense for everything I did was to offer all of my heart to you, without holding back.”

“And you didn’t mind if I said or did anything hurtful, regardless of your feelings? Your needs?”

“No,” he hissed. “I so wish you’d give as much in return, naturally. I would die to have all of you, with nothing held back. To see, to know, to love the entirety of you. I have longed for that every moment since the rite. There was and is, however, little reason for you to do so, and I don’t begrudge you that.” Astarion looked away. “I can’t ever begrudge you anything, Ban, as much as I want to; not for very long, anyways - you know all too well why.”

His eyes moved back to hers, although he looked lost, as if living in memories. “I love you.”

Astarion glanced toward the ruins in the distance and thought there was where he should have said those words first; when he’d finally wrested his mind and body out of the clutches of his past and been able to let her touch him, when he’d been able to lose himself in her touch and her love without any expectation of anything in return other than what he wanted to give. When every night in their tent was filled with nothing but happiness.

The first time he’d actually said it had been in their quiet, private suite in the Elfsong, when he’d offered her eternal life by his side. The words had rolled off his tongue effortlessly. It hadn’t been a lie, not really - but it also hadn’t quite been the truth, either. He’d weaved his fanciful words around her, voice lowering in pitch, the seduction and feigned earnestness flowing from him easily. Spinning the web to ensure her assent, he’d told himself.

I’d never want to control you. I love you.

The next sentence, however, had slipped out unbidden. The moment it was out he’d known he’d fucked up. He had known she’d read between those incredibly thin lines, would see that he wasn’t truly sincere, that it was mainly a calculated move to keep her there with him forever and ever until the sun burns out and maybe even longer than that.

That’s what you’ve been waiting to hear, isn’t it? That’s what you want?

He hadn’t seemed to be able to go without saying it, without hinting that love wasn’t all it was. Some small part of him had wanted her to know and to run, to leave him, to not debase herself, bring herself down to his level. He’d seen, mere hours ago, what she thought of him. A monster, to have condemned so many souls to the fires of damnation - wretched, heartless, without a care in the world other than for power.

Power. Of course he’d craved it - what else was there? What else, after the ritual, after that look on her face, on all their faces? Had he not deserved to carve into Cazador’s flesh, repayment for two centuries of pain? Had he not at least earned the right to relish that moment? Hypocrites. They had all been there, and yet when he’d stepped onto the dais their eyes had refused to meet his, had refused to acknowledge him - except for her.

Hers had judged him.

That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be mine? Forever?

It’d been easier to phrase it that way; that she’d wanted it, not he. Easier to pretend that he’d been manipulating her easily, that she’d bought into every word he’d said. Her brows had furrowed at his words, evidently unconvinced - that too, he’d refused to acknowledge.

Before the rite they had talked about forever. He’d promised to find her a way to join him in immortality, just as she had promised to find a way for him to walk in the sun. They’d had some fanciful ideas; finding another vampire lord to turn her, and then murdering said lord had been one of them. She’d often laughed at that idea, shoved him playfully, but they’d both known there was an underlying seriousness in those conversations. She was human, and he was… well. He would inevitably outlive her.

In the moments after his ascendance, then, it had made sense to want to make her immortal, ensuring they were both spared the agony of being parted by death, whether it be by age or anything they’d face in the coming years. Giving her the words he’d known she’d longed to hear, so that she’d agree to take the gift of immortality… It had been easy to offer, and she had said yes after some convincing; what wasn’t to like?

What wasn’t to like was what you did after, he reminded himself.

Ban smiled at his words, looking down at their hands; his were warm and soft, so unlike her own calloused ones. She lifted one up, placing it on her cheek. “I love you too. Even when things were tainted, I still wanted you. Loved you.”

Astarion nodded. He was aware; recent events had gone a long way in reassuring him of this. All the same, he mused a little on her words, his hand on her face, then did what he used to - a light shove to her cheek, although this time there was no derision in it.

“Even then?” he challenged, as she stared at him in shock. “I used to do that, telling myself you liked it, that you wanted me to shame you, because that was what we did behind closed doors. I thought what is a little more, when you clearly considered yourself so… denigrated by staying with me. I thought that you’d willingly be my spawn and just take it.” He bit his lip. “You saw me as a monster and so I gave you exactly that, out of spite, out of…” he trailed off. Of pain.

He’d known she’d enjoyed the roughness of it all, the interplay of dominance and control, in bed. It had become too easy in the aftermath of the rite to take it further. He’d known she’d resented it; the ever-present look of distance on her face and her emotional absence had said as much. But those little moments of emotion, whether lust or wrath, had been all he’d had left of her. Sure, there’d been moments when she’d been tender, when love would break through, but it had been sparse at best. Those flashes of arousal mixed with anger had been more reliable, more consistent, a sign that she’d still felt something for him; something that he could reasonably expect to elicit by doing certain things, even if that feeling was predominantly resentment.

Thinking back on it, he felt some guilt, but also curiosity. They’d never really discussed this at length, and now that they’d brought this dynamic back into their bedroom, it felt like it was high time they did so. Where he expected to feel anxiety and fear, instead there’s a burgeoning confidence in their bond, a renewal of faith that felt astonishingly peaceful. Like the first droplets of rain after a drought, soaking into the parched landscape; a benediction, promising new life.

She looked down at his words, staring at their joined hands, thoughtful. She gave a comforting squeeze. “I allowed it because I love you. We said forever, so forever it was. It wasn’t always pleasant, wasn’t always wanted, and I didn’t muster the strength to leave until a lot later, but I didn’t expect how… far you would take it at times.” She huffed, a small, dejected noise. “I gave you permission, thought it would help rebuild our trust in some way, that I would reach you again, and… instead the Ascendant ran away with it.”

“I would definitely agree that it went too far,” he affirmed quietly, hands slipping away from hers to hold onto the boat, “even though you expressly allowed it.”

He leaned back, reaching out to her mind. There were no words there, merely the entwining of souls, each assuring the other that this was merely a conversation; nothing bad would come of it.

“Anger and desire were all I could have of you, and my pride allowed me no room to consider any other alternative.” He looked up at the stars; that confession had not been easy. To his surprise he felt the boat shift as Ban moved. There was a gentle push against his legs, he parted them to make room for her to sit between them, her back to him. She set a hand on his thigh, closing her eyes. For a moment they sat in companionable silence, Astarion rubbing circles on the back of her neck.

“You’re going to ruin your clothes that way, love,” he murmured, and she snorted, the silence broken. A second or two passed, and he felt her take a deep breath as she began to speak.

“At times, it did go too far,” she agreed. “It would have been fine had we been in a better state then. Had we actually talked.” He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.

“You could always have said no; the faintest whisper of ‘Sussur’ would have ended it all,” Astarion remarked. There was also the fact that Ban could have physically stopped him at any time; he wasn’t so delusional as to think her incapable of it. She was the hero of Baldur’s Gate, after all; powerful and strong in her own right.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her move as she shrugged. “Most of the time it was wanted. Most of the time it felt good, other than small moments when it would be overwhelming. Afterward I’d realize it went too far, and I’d tell myself I’d say it the next time it happened, but… For one, you know we barely talked then. And, well.” She cleared her throat awkwardly. He could sense her trepidation and leaned down to place a small kiss on the top of her head.

“You thought bringing it up might be what would finally cause me to compel you.” Not a surprise; he’d guessed it before, when he’d wondered why she’d taken everything without much complaint back then. Oh, there were arguments of course, but she’d usually backed down, despite the looks of absolute rancor in her gaze.

She shrugged again, unwilling to say it, but her mind sent a tendril of assent. Astarion let out a rough exhale. “We both know, Ban; there’s little point in refusing to articulate the truth with words. You offered me your submission in and out of our bed in the hopes of reigniting what we’d had in the days before the rite - your vulnerability in exchange for my heart.”

It had failed, of course. “I gave nothing back, save anger and aggression; the feeling of you pulling away was so painful it served as cause to hide myself even further away. I thought I would spare myself heartache, but it merely caused you to put even more distance between us.” He laughed humorlessly. “Ironic, isn’t it? I’d worsened the very trait I’d wished to banish.”

Small threads of apprehension began to weave through him, despite his earlier confidence. Might he have pushed too far again? His heart began to race in his chest and he frantically searched for something to say - anything, really, just to mitigate any damage because it can’t happen again-

It’s alright. Her presence in his mind, wrapping her thoughts around his; there was nothing there but affection and slight concern, a gentle press of love that urged him to slow down his breathing and his frantic heart.

“Irony or not, it no longer matters. None of it does. We’re here now, and last time… I enjoyed it,” she reassured. “More than you’ll ever know.” Her mind searched for the memories, opening them up like roses in bloom, allowing him to bask in them, in her desire for him, heavy with renewed trust and faith. Love, deep and seemingly infinite, a font without end.

Astarion rubbed her shoulder absently; his heart soaring, recognizing what she was truly offering: not just a thing to explore during sex, but trust. “I suppose you did. In fact, you seemed to rather take a lot of pleasure in being stubborn as well,” he reminded. “Which, if we are to progress further… at your pace, of course,” the hand on her shoulder tightened a fraction as the sheer relief bolsters his confidence, “we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?”

She smiled at this, head still tilted back. “Sure, we could. We will negotiate and renegotiate as needed. But right now…” and that smile became a grin, “don’t waste the view; kiss me.”

He laughed at that, more relief than anything else, then pulled her close, fingers closing around her exposed throat teasingly. “It would be my pleasure, darling,” he purred, leaning down to do her bidding.

Her lips were cool and soft against his own. The grip on his shoulder however, was strong, fingers digging into his jacket - a good reminder, he thought. She could choose to pull away at any moment; she would be strong enough to wrest away from him. He’d let her go in a fraction of a second if she pulled away, of course, but he hoped she found comfort in her own strength.

But she gave in to him again, giving him her faith and vulnerability and love, and his heart had never felt more full.

The soft heat of his breaths met her cooler ones, a pleasant mix that Astarion moaned into as she put a palm over his cock. He rolled his hips against the touch, and the boat shifted a little in response, eliciting a quiet huff of amusement.

“Going to be a slight challenge,” he breathed, “if you really want to do this in this dinghy.”

Turning between his legs, she faced him with a smirk tugging her lips. “You’ll just have to let me have my way with you, and stay very still.” Her hand tugged his shirt free from his trousers, splaying a hand on his abdomen.

Astarion swallowed. “If you’re doing this as a defense or as a way to divert my attention, Ban, know that you needn’t. I don’t require you to- ahh,” he groaned; the hand on his belly had slipped lower, playfully tracing the outline of his hipbone as it skated downwards.

“Fine,” he hissed, hands flying to his trousers to undo the laces and tug them down; a quick lift of his hips and they’re down around his ankles. “If you- fine; on one condition: you’ll have to take me in your mouth when I come. I won’t have this jacket or this shirt ruined.”

The hand drew ever closer to his cock, its movement painfully slow and teasing.

“Gods. Look - everything is white. We can just have it laundered. Or you could take them off…” She rolled her eyes at him. “But go ahead, give another condition if you really want to pretend you’re still in control of all this.” The smirk on her face merely intensified his want; fingers touched his cockhead and he jerked violently, the boat swaying again.

A smile grew on his face, all teeth and just a little bit mischievous. “Anything? You’ll regret that, you know.”

“I’m eager to prove you wrong.” Ban replied without missing a beat, helping him kick off his shoes and trousers. She positioned herself on the floor, movements slow so as to not jostle the boat, sitting even further between his legs. She quickly removed his jacket and shirt, tossing them onto the pile before wrapping a hand around him, the first strokes gentle and soft. Astarion couldn’t help but watch her hand, fighting the urge to rut.

I’m eager to prove you wrong. How was he supposed to counter that, when she was touching him like that, and oh what in the hells-

He looked down to see her other hand cupping his balls, kneading gently, an intensely wonderful feeling that ended all too soon as her hand moved beyond them. He started to object, before he realized she was moving her hand behind, and a finger touched him there; his heart fluttered deliciously in anticipation.

“Fuck, Ban,” he managed to groan as the pad of her finger gently traced circles around his entrance; he instantly tilted his hips to provide better access. “You utterly depraved minx. I ought to punish you for this.”

“Then do so,” she said, not bothering to look him in the eye or even pause. “Please.”

Scrambling for something, he uttered the first thing that came to mind. “Fine. You can’t touch me for a tenday, since you seem so unable to control yourself.” The moment he said it he cursed himself; that would mean he’d suffer too. “I will touch you as much as I please, but you-” he grinned, “you will not lay so much as a finger on me for the entire time,” he tacked on hurriedly.

Ban stilled then looked at him, thinking. “Did you not want me to?” There was concern in that gaze, and Astarion vehemently shook his head.

“No. No. Just… the first thing that came to mind,” he admitted. “You’ve always seemed to derive such pleasure from touching me, from making me feel-“ a soft moan, as her hands resumed moving, his cock was stroked slightly faster and the finger tested his entrance, “-that.”

“It’s nice, bringing you the pleasure you’ve always deserved,” she replied. “Bringing you bliss that you need not reciprocate. Showing you that you are valued. Loved.” She purred the last word, knowing exactly what it would do to him.

Astarion sighed contentedly, hands settling on the boat, holding on for dear life and rapidly losing the fight to keep still; his hips twitched involuntarily here and there, muscles spasming. “The concern is appreciated, but I do enjoy reciprocating.” She swiped a thumb over his slit, causing him to squirm.

“Let’s make it fair,” Ban suggested. “You can’t touch yourself, either. Nor can you touch me.”

Astarion laughed, haughty and unconcerned. “No, my love. This is a punishment. Your punishment. Fair does not enter into it, nor are you in any position to dictate the terms of this little game. I will not seek my own release, nor will you yours, but I shall touch you whenever I want.” Ban snorted, and he shot her a dark and incredulous look, one that wasn’t very effective considering their current situation.

What she’d just said about showing him he’s loved doesn’t go unnoticed, either: he’d realized what she’d been doing, had suspected it before, and was greatly appreciative. But this was a fun game, and he reasoned one of them would give in well before the tenday is out. Probably himself, he figured.

“We are agreed,” Ban nodded. “You better come hard then, because you won’t be getting anything for a while.”

“Easier than you think,” he rasped; her finger had slowly begun pushing inside him, the all-too-pleasant feeling only adding to the rising pressure in his core. He looked back up at the night sky, reminded of their nights here, in the camp. How she had taken so much joy in finally being allowed to touch him, to learn how his body responded to her, to bring him the pleasure she insisted he so deserved and to show him how much she cared for him.

The knuckles gripping the boat were white, his feet planted firmly to keep himself steady. His hips rolled once, and again the boat bobbed. He exhaled, frustrated. He had to stay still even as her hand stroked his cock, from base to hot, swollen tip, fingers dragging deliciously and squeezing at the head, gods he wasn’t going to last between this and her finger.

“Tell me what you’ll do after the tenday has passed,” Ban urged.

A low groan, and he opened his mouth, babbling. “I’ll pin you against the wall, spread your legs, shove myself in you, deep inside you - carry you to bed, fold you in fucking half, Ban, bury myself to the hilt in you again and again, just the way you like it. I’ll make you feel so good you’ll cry, you’ll beg, you’ll pray, but there will be no gods, there will be only me, only us, and I’ll show you just how much I’ll have missed your- ngh.”

The hand on his cock had sped up; Astarion gave up, his hips now undulated in time with Ban’s hand, the boat swaying merrily in the still water. His ass lifted off the seat with each upward thrust then sank down onto her finger. Close, so very close, the world coalescing into just her finger and the hand squeezing him and touching him where no other ever will, where only love is allowed to tread now-

His cry broke the silence; Astarion looked down in time to see himself come. His seed decorated his stomach and chest as Ban stroked out every drop; a little missed him entirely and landed on the seat. He didn’t even care, riding the feeling, his grip on the boat finally falling slack as he sank down. Ban removed her finger as he did, fondling his balls one last time; she stroked him through the remnants of his release and then let go, returning briefly to clean his skin with a handkerchief.

He tugged her up to him for a rough, quick kiss. He slipped his tongue between her parted lips, exploring and tasting her. She moved to deepen the kiss; he allowed it for a fraction of a second, then pulled away after one last nip on her bottom lip. A tenday, he thought, intending to win this little game of theirs. Ban sighed in contentment and leaned against his chest. “Beautiful view indeed,” she mused.

“Thank you,” she murmured, smiling up at him. “I didn’t expect you to bring me here of all places, but… it is lovely.”

He was surprised and delighted; he gently placed a hand on her side, the fabric of her dress smooth against his palm. The boat had since come to a standstill, barely moving across the surface of the water, still and dark as though made of glass. He peered over and saw his own visage, something he hadn’t been able to do for so long and yet already felt so mundane.

“I didn’t bring us here expecting a conversation about all that; we’ve come here to take your mind off your family, which I am certain we have accomplished with a certain… panache,” he teased; this earned a quick smack to his knee, “and, well. Your mist form does need some practice.”

She let out a small pfft of feigned irritation, but wrapped her arms around him, pressing close and nuzzling against him; the boat shifted yet again at the movement. Astarion held her in turn, resting his head atop hers.

“Mm.” A kiss was placed over his breast, over his heart. She peered up at him, and he found her eyes so wonderfully soft and warm. “Again. Thank you, love. This… this was wonderful. Magical.”

He snorted. “If you want magical, darling, go ask Gale; I’m sure he would be more than happy to accommodate- Ban!” She shoved him and he held her tighter in response, a snicker escaping him.

“I fall, you fall,” he hissed, nipping at her neck, fangs grazing the skin.

“Isn’t it always just so,” Ban remarked, playfully mimicking his cadence, grasping Astarion’s nape, fingers stroking the errant curls on the base of his neck.

He leaned back into her touch, a soft shudder running through him. “I know I just came, but…”

“Not even a full hour and you’re admitting defeat?” Ban teased; her hand deliberately moved to touch the tip of one still-flushed ear.

“Of course not. Merely stating facts. Ah-ah,” he pulled the hand away, “no teasing. We’ll stick to kissing and… well. Cuddles,” he winced internally at the word, “would be acceptable too. At least until we begin the game in earnest.” Astarion tried for haughty but it came out tender; he sighed, frustrated.

“In hindsight, we ought to push it back until after everything’s over,” he suggested, a little cautiously. It wouldn’t do well to have this happening at the same time as Ban’s family’s visit; it was sure to dredge up a lot of unpleasant memories, and he intended to be there for her in every possible way. This would merely be a hindrance.

She was silent for a second, the mirth slipping away at the reminder. Then, she nodded. She offered him a small smile and mouthed Thank you. He returned it with a smile of his own, tender, his heart filled with an intense need to keep her smiling that way, no matter what.

Smitten, he thought to himself. There was no other word for it.

It may not be on the morrow, but he found himself rather excited for when they begin their little game.

It would be a long tenday.

Note: As part of the edits @editing-by-night and I are making on Whither, we have decided to shift into the past tense. Next week's chapter will be in that tense, and we shall be changing the tenses on the other chapters of Remember as well. No other edits will be made to Remember.

Bonus Song Rec for this chapter!

If you would like to see more of these two and their story, consider reading my other entries in the series "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."

I am happy to announce that 'Whither is thy beloved gone?' is getting professionally edited as well. I shall keep everyone abreast of when these changes go live. Thank you!

Taglist: @tavamarie @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @battisonsgf @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decedentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind @pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @vinegarjello @the0ldmann @wisteriaofthegraves @midnight-musings-of-nyx @toni-winchester @icybluepenguin @beepersteeper @hereliesblackdragon @generalstephkenobi

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heeseung-min · 1 year

Note

Hey! I have an idea you can try out like a drabble or thought or a full fic when the s/o act like they got the sherlock syndrome but they do not and that was their plan to escape but did they escape or not it up to you decide it it just a thought of mine i think you will able to write. i think this idea would suit more on enhypen sunghoon or jay but i think it can also be for txt.

Hi hi thanks for the request🤗 I hope you enjoy this

[21:39]

"If you listen to me, you will never be like this."

"I don't like hurting you. So, you better be good before I killed your sister in front of you."

"You asked for it, y/n."

Those were the words you would hear everytime you cause a trouble. Everytime you try to run from the house, he eventually caught you before you can even go far. Each time that happened, he will punished you badly. Whether it is physical or mental, he will make sure you learn the lesson.

And that's why you decided to stop doing it. Stop trying to find a way. Stop causing a trouble. At first, your sick husband being skeptical thinking that you tried to fool him. However, it's been months you acted like that. You listened to him and being affection towards him and that made him believed that you finally submit to him.

"Y/n, what do you want to eat for dinner?"

"Can we get Chinese foods, Hoonie?"

"Sure, my angel. Come here. We can watch movie while waiting for it to arrive."

"You know, I'm glad that you finally listen."

You stared at Sunghoon who was eating his meal. He gulped the food before talking again.

"I'm happy that you finally understand me."

Your boyfriend looked really happy. His expression reminded you from the first year you guys being in relationship. You wondered how can he changed to this personality.

"I realized you are right. About the world is more dangerous and I could get hurt if I go outside. I'm sorry for not listening to you earlier."

Sunghoon's heart couldn't be more happier when you said that. He watched you smiled fondly at him and continue enjoying your food.

"I will leave and be back before dinner. Do you want me to buy anything?"

"Nope, I'm good. Be safe."

"I will and you be good. Okay?"

"Yes, my love."

Sunghoon kissed you before he went out of the house. You smirked when he finally left the house. You will use this opportunity to run away from him.

Before this when Sunghoon goes out, you will go out from the house and search a way for you to run without easily get caught. Then, you will be back immediately before Sunghoon back to make sure he didn't feel any suspicious. You had planned this for months and now finally you can use the route.

You changed your clothes to more casual so you can move easily since the area you need to go is the forest.

You started your journey with some snacks and water for your energy. The walk was a bit dangerous since there might be some wild animals and you still aren't familiar with the area. You keep walking for hours and rest for few minutes in between before you saw an inn meters away from you. You ran immediately to the place thinking that you finally escape from Sunghoon.

The inn looked empty since you didn't see any cars or travelers around. You walked closer to a young man that just came out from a room. He looked attractive even though his attire just ordinary. His sharp jaw made him more handsome.

"Um, excuse me?"

He turned to you. Looking confusely. Probably because he didn't expect anyone at this time.

"Yeah, how can I help you?"

"Well, I have a problem and I need a ride to town. Can you please send me there?"

"Hmm, I don't have any vehicle that can be used now. How about this, you stay at my inn for a night and tomorrow you can share ride with one of my customers. He often send home essentials every morning so I can ask for him to send you."

Well, it's not really bad even though you hope you can go to the town now. You agreed with his suggestion before following him to your room.

"Can I borrow your phone too?"

"You...don't have a phone?"

"Ye-yeah. It's broken before I came here."

He stared weirdly at you before shrugging. He showed the old phone that was located inside your room.

"You can use that phone."

"But...it looks old."

"So? It still can be used. Don't worry."

You sighed and just went inside. The room is not big but good for staying for a while. You rested your body on the floor. You can't wait to finally out from this place and Sunghoon. You have been waiting for this to happen. Before you completely sleep, you tried to call your sister. You felt awkward using the old phone at first but you got it eventually.

You groaned after the you failed to connect with her few times. You tried to think positive maybe the line here is not really good so that's why it's hard for you to reach her.

You sleep peacefully that night thinking you finally can be free.

You woke up when you felt someone was caressing your hair. Your eyes slowly opened up as you still felt sleepy. You saw someone sitting beside you. You blinked once again before started to see the clear picture.

When you recognized the person was Sunghoon, you shockingly woke up and backed away from him until your back touched the wall.

"Ho-how..."

"You really make me angry, Y/n."

Sunghoon just stared at you. There was no expression showing on his face. But, you knew better that he will not let this matter down just like that. Since you betrayed his trust, you will face harder punishment than before.

"Sunghoon- oh, you finally woke up."

You turned to the inn owner. He looked at you with bright smile.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you yesterday. When Sunghoon called and asked me, I finally remember who you are so I called him here."

You wanted to throw up. Panic started to increase and you felt suffocating. You can't move since you were still in daze so Sunghoon pulled you up and brought you out from the room. His hold on you was very tight that you could felt it started to bruise.

"Thanks for taking care of her, Jay."

"You are welcome. Make sure she will not run away this time."

"Oh, I am sure she can't go anywhere anymore."

_____

Sunghoon brought you to the basement. You smell a very strong smell when you entered the place. He didn't say anything from the time both of you were in the car until now and that's really scared you. You rather he shouted at you than being silent.

He stopped moving when both of you reached in front of punchbag. Two punchbags to be exact. You glancing confusely at Sunghoon before watching him took something from a drawer. A knife. He took out a knife and put your hand on the handle.

"I want you to choose between these bags."

"What...what do you mean?"

"Choose Y/n. Don't make me more angry at you."

He left you stood alone between the punchbags and went to sit on the couch near you. You still stood clueless and you looked to Sunghoon demanded details.

"Choose one of the bags and I want you to stab on it."

You didn't like where is this going. This is not how he usually do when he wanted to punish you. Why...why he looked so calm? You didn't like this situation.

"Hoon....I still don't understand."

Sunghoon sighed and decided to go behind you and hugged your body while his hands holding yours at the same time. You can felt his breath behind your ear.

"Let me help you then. Now, choose y/n. Left or right?"

"Hoon, I- I can't do this. You can hit me or do anything like what you used to. Please."

"Choose. I'm serious this time, y/n. Choose."

You were already in sobbing state but your boyfriend ignored it and still waiting for you to speak. You calm yourself down before staring at the punchbags in front of you. Why would he made you do this? Did he asked you to choose what type of punishment you will get? You gulped down your nervous and stated what have you decided.

"The...the right one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You made a good choice then."

Without saying more, he jerked forward your right hand to stab the punchbag that you chose. However, as you focused more you saw liquid dripping from inside. You dropped the knife when you realized the liquid was blood. When Sunghoon took his hands off, you fell down to the floor with your hands shaking badly. Your boyfriend smirked and whispered to you.

"Should we take a look what's inside, Y/n?"

You wanted to say no but all the courage inside you has gone. You watched Sunghoon took the knife and sliced the punchbag until something or more to someone fell on top of you. You screamed and closed your eyes when the blood hit your face.

"Open your eyes baby. See it."

Slowly, you opened your eyes and saw a pair of very familiar eyes staring at you. You screamed again and threw the body to the floor beside you when you recognized it was your sister. Your dead sister was in front of you right now. You suddenly threw up and felt the tightness on your chest. You crawled to your sister and sat beside her body while holding her head.

"Unnie. Please, wake up. I'm sorry I didn't mean it. Unnie, please. WAKE UP PLEASE AAARGHHH"

You tapped her cheeks few times trying to help regain her concsciousness back. Even though you knew, there was no pulse nor slow breath from her.

"WAKE UP!!! I'm- I'm sorry I didn't mean to do it. I don't want to do this."

You turned to Sunghoon with full of rage. He didn't react and just waited for you to do or say something.

"You...you asshole. How dare you? HOW DARE YOU KILL MY SISTER!!!"

"I killed her? Are you forgot that you were the one who chose it. You made the choice, Y/n. You killed your own sister with your hands"

"NO! I DID NOT! YOU MADE ME KILLED HER."

"Look at your hands now, baby. It's your sister's blood and look at me, it's clean unlike you."

Once again, you started to hyperventilate and started to hit your head and chest trying to get rid of the tightness. You suddenly heard voices talking.

'You killed her'

'You shouldn't betray Sunghoon'

'This is your fault'

'Now suffer the consequence'

"Ahhh stop talking!! I didn't kill her!"

You hit yourself many times to protect yourself from the voices. You screamed and sobbing when it became worse. You moved to Sunghoon while still on your knee and hugged his leg begging for help.

"Make it...make it stop Hoon..I- I can't hold it. Please."

Within few seconds, you passed out after Sunghoon jabbed the needle he was holding on your neck. He called someone to clean the mess and carried you upstairs.

_____

You woke up from the sleep after few hours. You felt like you just had a worst nightmare ever. But then, when you looked on your clothes and hands you realized it's not a dream. The blood stain is still there and you felt like shitty remembering what happened back in the basement.

You sat on the bed quietly until you saw Sunghoon came in with small towel and bowl of water. He didn't say anything and just clean your face and hands from the blood. He also changed your dirty clothes to a new one and sat in front of you after finished doing it.

Both of you didn't talk. You looked down to your fiddling fingers and Sunghoon just stared at you. As like he knew you wanted to say something but you are afraid to do so. At last, you lifted your head and looked at him.

"What...what do you do to my sister?"

Oh, how soft your voice. Sunghoon melted at the sound of it. He caressed your face and leaned closer to you so he can kissed you.

"Bury her, of course. I would not keep corpse in this house, y/n."

It was a dumb question but you somehow really need assurance from Sunghoon that your sister finally not suffering anymore. You hope that he at least bury her at good place.

Sunghoon finally stood up. Before he walked away, he tied a cloth on your mouth and your hands to the bed. Again, you felt confuse with the act. He went to the front bed and facing you. He stared at you or more to your legs.

"You will run away again."

He tapped on your left leg.

"I don't want that to happen."

He tapped on your right leg.

"So, I should prevent you from moving."

You screamed out loud when you felt your bone on the right foot broken. You were trashing on the bed trying to let yourself off from the rope. It hurts so much and you started to cry because of the pain.

"Now, you can't run away anymore."

-----

Wow, did i wrote that😱😲 i hope you guys enjoy tho😁😁😁

Taglist: @stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount @cyberpinkx

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years

Text

Fireleaf (Part Five)

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Thank you so much for all the support I've had on this story so far <3 I cannot express to you how much my lovely friend @greeneyedivy helps with this story. I very much consider it our story, because while I do the writing, her brilliant brain cells come up and help with so many of the ideas and plot points, so she deserves just as much credit<3

Warnings: None for this part!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“A masquerade?”

Two weeks later, Dion strolled beside you, sliding his hands into his pockets. A considerable distance was kept between you as the two of you braved the crisp air.

“It’s a type of ball where everyone wears masks—”

“I know what it is,” You cut in, snorting. “I’m just not sure why we’d be invited to a masquerade ball in the Spring Court.”

“We are…tentative allies with Spring. And Lucien is a friend of the High Lord, Tamlin. We were invited out of courtesy.”

Lucien seemed to have friends all over the place — something you’d only learned from your snooping, brought about entirely by boredom, over the past fortnight.

You’d certainly noticed a change all around — namely, and gradually, in Dion’s behaviour. It seemed that without the staring eyes of gossiping nobles, he no longer felt the need to be so openly affectionate towards you; as though the public displays of your courting throughout the festival had merely been for show. The touches had begun to become less and less, few and far between. Gone were the subtle brushes against your hand, the kisses to your temple, the sweet remarks laced with suggestion. By now, all of it had been replaced with behaviour much more appropriate in a platonic relationship. You were acting like friends.

And you found yourself not even slightly bothered by that. Whether that spelled doom for your nuptials, you hadn’t decided.

“It’s seen as an honour — for one court to be invited to another’s event.” Dion said. “And it’s also not a bad thing for us to present ourselves as a good ally to their people. We’ll be decked out in Spring Court attire as a mark of respect.”

Spring Court attire. You didn’t know what that looked like. You’d never seen another court — never even glimpsed another High Lord. The idea of leaving the lands you’d grown up in and seeing, hearing, smelling an entirely new place…it almost made you giddy with excitement. It was almost enough to tune out that ever-present panic and sorrow gnawing at you.

Because Dion’s change in behaviour over the past two weeks hadn’t been the only difference that had jarred you. It was how quickly you’d been thrown into wedding preparations — how only the day after you’d sparred with Lucien, you’d been subjected to a lesson by Beron about all the important members of his court, all the vital people who would be coming to your wedding and where you would have them sit. That same afternoon, you’d pored over gown materials with the Lady of Autumn. All of it had taken off so damn fast, and had made for a chaotic two weeks that’d left you grasping, in your own time, for some sense of self. You knew you’d pushed the limits a few times – that the High Lord himself had spied you wandering places you had no business going, and taking horses out for rides without his permission. You’d even offered, at times, to help the servants with their work. To do anything that you had chosen to do, that made you feel normal. And if Beron got sick of your behaviour and sent you back to your family…well, you certainly wouldn’t be complaining.

So — yeah. You could really use some fun.

“So I get to dance and enjoy myself?” You knocked your arm into Dion’s. “Or do I have to stand by and be a pretty piece on your arm?”

“Well,” His grin was wicked. “That’s the beauty of the masks, isn’t it? They offer you enough anonymity to throw caution to the wind.”

True, you thought. You may never have been to a masquerade ball before, but you could imagine what a tantalising combination the masks and the wine and the dim lighting were. A real chance for you to let your hair down; you could have cried with relief.

“In that case,” You slowed to a stop, turning to Dion. “Perhaps that night, we can just…be Y/N and Dion. No pressure on us. No worrying about who’s watching. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

His mischievous grin softened into a gentle smile, and he nodded. “I like the sound of that. Just Y/N and Dion.”

⤲

You were so excited, you couldn’t possibly sit still.

Already, you could feel the urge to dance rippling through your bones. Could feel the draw to a night of freedom that awaited. You wanted to slip your mask on and be somebody else for a while.

Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court, did not do things by halves — a fact you became all too aware of a week before, when he’d sent his own personal designer, tailor and seamstress to the Autumn Court to have you all appropriately outfitted for the ball. It was the first time in a while that you hadn’t cared about being poked and prodded and rotated while your measurements were taken, and a sketch of the gown you were going to wear was brought to life. The first dress in a while that you were excited to put on.

Anyone could be forgiven for thinking you were a Spring Court female, you realised, as you stared into the mirror on the night of the ball. The tulle gown was a soft, sage green, tight-fitting at the bodice and pooling to the floor in a swish of gauzy material that felt light and easy to move in. It was more daring than the gowns you wore in the Autumn Court — with delicate, off-the-shoulder sleeves that left most of your arms and shoulders exposed, and a neckline that dared to dip a tad lower than your usual dresses, you’d never felt so—

Sexy. You felt sexy. And light on your feet, and airy. And the mask that had been made to match the gown — an utter artwork in itself. It covered half of your face, and was of the same green shade as your dress. Adorned with glittering petals and jewels and stones, you’d spent a while just admiring it before you’d allowed the dresser to fasten it on your face. And perhaps your most favourite feature — the flaring green feathers on one side — possibly those of a peacock — that swept brilliantly upwards towards your hair, styled into an immaculate updo and accented with little vines of green Spring Court leaves and butterflies crafted of painted glass.

Now this — if you could wear this to your wedding, you’d marry any of the damn Vanserras.

A light rapping on the door had you straightening yourself out. You looked up, half expected to see Dion in all his finery.

Your stomach twisted a bit when the High Lord sauntered in.

You watched, in the mirror, as he approached you from behind. He didn’t yet don the mask that had been made for him, but the tailored green-and-gold brocade suit was undoubtedly a thing to behold, giving a hint of the sculpt of muscles underneath. Beron Vanserra was, indeed, a handsome male.

But inexplicable nausea always arose in you whenever he was around.

He stopped behind you, a mere hair’s-breadth away. The warmth of his breath fanned your exposed neck, and you felt yourself go rigid, taut.

“High Lord,” You greeted quietly, dipping your chin.

“Look at you,” One corner of his mouth quirked up, his eyes raking over your reflection. “My son is certainly a lucky male.”

You swallowed, wondering how subtly you could inch away. “I appreciate the compliment.”

“Hmm, I’m sure.”

You watched – watched so carefully as he slowly circled your body, stopping in front of you. Dark, empty eyes stared down into yours. Assessing. Cold.

“I don’t suppose,” He hummed, reaching out to touch a stray curl that hung loose from your hair, “that I need to remind you not to embarrass my court tonight.”

You lifted your chin. Stared up at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

His lips twitched into a calculating smile – like he didn’t believe your words for one second. “I would hope not,” He said. “But I’ve had my eye on you these past two weeks, since your family returned home. It would seem that you’ve been a tad restless. Perhaps you’re trying to cause trouble in the hopes that I would call off this engagement and let you leave?”

Your eyes narrowed at him. Had your behaviour, your thoughts, truly been that blatant? It threw you off – made you feel less confident before him.

And he could see that; he seemed to be aware of every minute expression on your face. The way your features were begging to be kicked up into a sneer that his mere presence naturally provoked.

He smirked, letting go of that one curl he’d been toying with. But his hand only moved inches, settling at your neck, his rough thumb sweeping strokes over your throat. “If you miss your dear family so much, we could always invite one of your sisters for another visit.”

Knowing him, he was fully aware of the tensions that existed between you and Molly – would probably send for her just to spite you–

“The youngest one — Willow, is it?” He tilted his head. “You seem to be quite fond of her. And I’ve heard she’s had some…marital issues. What a poor situation for the poor lamb to find herself in. Our court is always open, should she ever crave a higher echelon of Autumn males.” That wolfish smirk widened. “I think Jareth got quite taken with her, too.”

You knew you’d frozen, gone entirely rigid – and not because of his hand still brushing your neck. Sickness unfurled inside of you like a wave, and you wanted to reach, to grab for anything to steady yourself. For Beron to be so aware of your closeness with Willow…for him to have already concocted calculating thoughts about it, to now be standing in front of you with a glimmer of threat in his eyes, his voice…

You swallowed. Eased yourself back a step. “My sister is unavailable for the foreseeable future. But I thank you, High Lord, for your thoughtfulness.” Gods, the pleasantries were nauseating. They physically pained you.

And Beron could see that. He seemed to be trying to rein in a laugh as he flicked his gaze over you once more. “I’m glad we have an understanding. If you behave as you’re expected to, I’m sure no measures will have to be taken.”

Such clear calculation in his words and his tone. And yet all you could do – for Willow – was dip your chin in acknowledgement. That you understood his threat. That you would heed it, like the obedient little female you were.

“Come.” The High Lord straightened himself out, offering you his arm. “I shall escort you to the sitting room. The others are waiting. We don’t want to be late.”

⤲

They were lined up in a row. All five of them.

And yet you stopped dead in the doorway. Gaped at them. Eris was the only one you could pick out immediately – only because he favoured having his hair cropped much shorter than that of his brothers’.

But the similarities between the other four were almost frightening. They all wore the same tailored outfits – a deep green, velvet version of Beron’s, accented with leaves. All had the same green-and-gold, cat-like masks that covered half of their faces, leaving the full lips and sharp jawlines as the only real visible things. And with Dion, Lucien, Jareth and Rian all leaving their long, red hair unbound, cascading around their shoulders, it took you a moment of intense scrutiny to actually pick your fiance out of the four of them.

Took Dion stepping out of line, towards you, for you to be absolutely sure.

“Mother above, look at you.” He grinned, his eyes flicking over you in appreciation. “I hope I get to dance with you before you’re stolen away from me.”

You smiled, inclining your head in thanks. “You clean up quite nicely yourself.”

He reached a hand out to you. “Shall we?”

His hand was warm, as you slid yours into it – not at all like Beron’s touch on your skin. And you found yourself sidling closer to Dion, found yourself wanting to make sure you didn’t catch yourself alone again any time soon.

“Let’s go,” Beron stepped forward. “I’ll not have us being late.”

And so Beron joined hands with the Lady of Autumn. Eris with Lucien and Jareth with Rian. And in a sweep of lurching darkness, you each jumped from Autumn to Spring.

⤲

The smells hit you first. Crisp and floral. Like freshly mown grass and rose petals.

Your group came to a stop on what appeared to be the lawn – though the size of it was more like a damn field. And as your eyes took in the sights before you…the pinks and oranges as the sun set over Tamlin’s estate, the expertly-trimmed hedges, the masses of different plants and flowers and trees, flowing fountains and pristine walkways that wended throughout it all…the only thing you could do was gape in utter awe.

If it looked like this in the dying light of evening time…you could only imagine its beauty first thing in the morning. Or bathed in warm afternoon sun rays.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Dion smiled, also drinking in the sights.

Behind you, Jareth scowled. “If it doesn’t make your nostrils sting, yes.”

“I seem to remember you complaining about that the last time you visited, Jareth.”

Every one of you turned at the deep, gravelly voice that came from behind. And it took only one sweep of your eyes to know that this — this was Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court.

You’d heard about him, of course. Heard that he was quietly handsome and rugged. Heard that he could shift into a beast on command. You believed that was entirely possible as you studied the broad expanse of his muscles. The male was huge.

And looking directly at you.

He, too, was showcasing what you were quickly realising was considered Spring Court Green. And he looked every bit the High Lord with his golden locks flowing around his face and the glimmer of emerald eyes you peeked through his mask of the same colour.

“You must be Y/N.” He greeted you politely. “Welcome to my court.”

You dipped your chin. “It’s very beautiful.”

“What, I don’t get a special greeting anymore, Tam?”

You glanced round — just in time to see Lucien step forward, the biggest smile on his face you’d ever seen. It was glowing, breathtaking. All you could do was stare.

“As if you don’t visit often enough and eat all my food?” Tamlin’s answering smile was just as broad. He clasped Lucien’s arms. “You’re looking well, friend.”

You watched the interaction, trying not to gape…because in the time you’d been at the Vanserra Estate, you’d never seen Lucien show the tenderness for his family that he currently displayed, unguarded, to Tamlin. It stirred something inside you that you couldn’t quite place a finger on.

Maybe…maybe there were other places that Lucien felt more at home.

“Thank you, again, for the invite, Tamlin.” Beron stepped forward. His strained voice told you just how rarely he thanked anyone for anything, but he squared his shoulders and forced himself to be pleasant.

“It’s my pleasure.” Tamlin smiled, and you tried not to gawk at the pure radiance of it. He turned to you and Dion. “And, of course, myself and my court extend our deepest congratulations on the news of your engagement. Shall we go in?”

Huge he may have been, but he was a picture of utter grace as he turned and headed towards the ginormous doorway – that was, until Lucien playfully shoved him, and then draped an arm around his shoulders. You watched the whole display as the rest of you followed; read the ease and lightness with which Lucien walked. An ease and lightness he never seemed to possess around his blood.

You glanced at his brothers. All of them had seen, and yet none of them seemed to care.

The thought made your shoulders slump slightly.

“Don’t be nervous.” Dion slid a hand to the small of your back. Misread your demeanour entirely. “Remember what we said. Just Y/N and Dion.”

You tried not to think about how odd it sounded as you followed him to the wine.

⤲

Such a brilliant thing – faerie wine. Not that you’d ever had the opportunity to try much else, but Linden had once told you of a time he’d drunk human wine – and likened it to muddy water.

But within two hours, every reservation, every worry, every sad thought…just gone. The other masked, dancing people around you didn’t matter as Dion spun you around in his arms, and the two of you laughed and chatted like there was nobody else in the huge ballroom. You were…euphoric. On top of the world. And if this was what it was like to be on Dion’s arm…you thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

He gripped hold of your hand, spinning you with a fluidity that he, himself, didn’t quite match. He wasn’t a bad dancer by any means, just…not a natural. Not light-footed and nimble like Eris had been when you’d danced with him on the final night of the festival. But with the wine, with the music, the masks…none of it mattered. You felt like you were walking on air.

“Shit.” Dion snorted as he watched his own steps, his back and shoulders stiff. “I’m definitely not a natural dancer.”

You grinned up at him, a laugh bubbling from your lips that was barely loud enough to be heard beneath the music. “Not a natural, no. Not smooth like Eris.”

He scowled playfully, his hands landing on your hips. “Eris is a show-off. He practises this shit in the mirror – do not tell him I told you that.”

You couldn’t help laughing again, throwing your head back and leaning into the pure joy you felt in that moment. It felt good to enjoy yourself. To enjoy someone else. And even though you were flushed all over, and giddy, and the mask was tight on your face and the dress too hot on your body, you thought you might like to stay like this forever. To dance, smile, laugh, forever.

The room was big enough that you only got the odd glimpse of Vanserra hair – but aside of recognising the short length of Eris’s, there was no telling which brother passed you by, or which was dancing with the pretty Spring Court girls, or which was necking wine at the tables pushed against the wall. And you liked it this way – the anonymity. Having a night where no eyes – not even Beron’s – were interested in following you.

“How about,” You grinned up at Dion, placing a hand against his chest, “you go and grab us some more drinks, and when you get back, I’ll show you how to relax your posture.”

Dion snorted, brushing long, orange locks from his face. “Alright — deal.” He squeezed your waist. “I’ll be back.”

Pressing his lips to your fingers once, he released his hold on you and disappeared into the sea of people, the sight of him becoming swallowed up immediately by flamboyant masks and extravagant gowns and the slick dances happening around you. You stepped just slightly out of the way, watching from the sidelines, in utter awe of the lethal precision of the moving bodies.

It only occurred to you – as you waited and waited for Dion’s return – just how thirsty you were. But you wanted to get back out there, to throw yourself into the hands of the music and feel alive. You fidgeted restlessly as one song drifted into another, the beat quicker, more frenzied. When it was nearing the end, and Dion still hadn’t returned, you scowled and pushed your way through the crowd. No doubt, he’d got distracted talking to somebody.

Hands grabbed for you as you passed, trying to pull you into dances that you politely declined. Your eyes scanned for every flash of red and orange in your periphery – bouncing over Eris, who was dancing expertly with a light-footed female, and a woman wearing a mask bedecked with glistening rubies; another who twirled around in a gauzy gown of a burnt orange colour. Another song was starting by the time you finally spotted your fiance – sure enough engrossed in a conversation with a Spring Court male, an almost-finished glass of wine in his hand. He turned away from the male as though he’d sensed your approach.

“Hey!” You reached him, grabbing his hand. “Come on. Don’t worry about the drinks. I wanna dance.”

You didn’t wait for his reaction – didn’t wait for him to finish his conversation, prising his drink from his hand and setting it aside. You were light as air and euphoric as you dragged him back onto the dance floor, twirling your way around the other dancers and finding your way to the middle. You preferred it there – felt more secure. More…anonymous.

The two of you fell into the dance easily, that extra glass of wine having done wonders for his fluidity. One of Dion’s hands clasped yours whilst the other was secured at your waist. His grip on you was firm, pleasant, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so good as he pulled you around, matching your steps and keeping up with you. Clearly, you hadn’t given him enough credit – he was a much better dancer once he relaxed and let go.

“I love this one,” You shouted over the frenzied tune, barely loud enough to reach him. “The rise and fall of the notes – all of it. I love it.”

“You know this music?” His voice floated to you as he spun you around confidently, brilliantly, all earlier reservations about his dancing gone.

“I never cared much for dancing as a girl,” You fell into step, your front pressing against his, “Because it was something I had to do, I didn’t like it. But when Linden began to train me, he made me realise that what I wanted to learn from him, and what I hadn’t wanted to learn from my dance teacher, were actually very similar things. He took me to a dance, once, to prove it – and this was played there.”

“And you enjoyed dancing that night?”

You smiled at the memory, nodding as you moved with him. “I did – I think for the first time ever. Because I had chosen to go with Linden that night. I had chosen to dance that night. And I realised that was all I’d wanted.”

“Choice.” Dion stared intensely down at you, your glazed eyes snagging on the moving lights and shapes behind him. “Because choice makes a whole world of difference – doesn’t it?”

It did. And to hear him say it meant more to you than he probably realised. To know that he understood…that you may not have been each other’s choices, but he understood, still, what it meant to you.

He got you. And you…you thought you got him.

It made some small, fiery thing alight inside you. A thought that perhaps…perhaps this didn’t need to be doomed, just because you hadn’t chosen it for yourself. That you didn’t need to oppose it on mere principle.

Dion was a good male. A good male who listened to you, who got you. And here, like this, in his arms…his hands touching you, his hair splaying around him beautifully as the two of you spun around, his presence that felt safe and right…you thought that maybe you could choose him.

Thought, for the first time, that maybe you wanted to.

You stared up at him, the upbeat song coming to an end and transitioning into one that was slower, much more sensual. Both of his hands immediately tried to pull you into a more languid dance – but you stilled him. Met his gaze with your own.

“What is it?” He cocked his head.

You didn’t answer. Merely cupped the back of his neck with your hand and pulled his face down to yours.

The dancers around you didn’t spare you a glance as you caught him in a searing kiss. Burning. Passionate.

And without even a second of hesitation, he was kissing you back immediately, his hands sliding around your waist.

The kiss was deliciously hard as he lifted you just slightly, enough for your body to press against his. Enough for you to slide your hand into the silken strands of his hair and somehow pull him closer to you, to press his mouth firmer against yours.

It was the most delicious, heady kiss you’d ever had. And you wanted more – to taste his tongue around yours, to inhale that delicious scent – the familiar, earthy smell that all Autumn males seemed to have, but tinged with something different tonight. Something that bizarrely made you think of early morning daylight, wrapped up in crisp bedsheets. Perhaps the result of Autumn and Spring mingling. Whatever it was, you wanted to gulp it down greedily.

But neither of you had taken a breath. And only when you were both gasping for air, huffing into each other’s mouths, did you pull away.

You stared at each other, chests heaving, breaths panting. Dion glanced at your lips again.

“More.” His voice was a deep growl as he took your face in both of his hands and leaned in, the music seeming to encase that one, daring word just between the two of you–

But his kiss didn’t have a chance to land as another dancer backed into you. As she stumbled, her wine flute slipping from her hand and tipping towards your dress. Dion tried to pull you out of its path, but the liquid had already sloshed over one side of the gown.

The young female blanched, blinking at you. “Oh gods—I’m so sorry—”

Her eyes caught the vibrant shade of Dion’s hair, and you could see — see the fear in her eyes, her mind already considering what Beron Vanserra’s reaction might be to someone embarrassing a member of his court — even by accident.

“It’s absolutely fine.” You tried to make your face as reassuring as possible behind your mask. “No harm done.”

“Your dress—”

“It was an accident,” Dion leaned down, collecting the fallen flute and returning it to her outstretched hand.“We were…distracted.”

The woman’s wide eyes tugged at your heart enough for you to gently lay a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry about it — really. I just need to clean up.”

She dipped her chin in thanks — looked so grateful, you thought she might well up. You turned to Dion before she could, shooting him a flustered gaze, your eyes once again snagging on his lips.

“I’ll meet you back out here once I’ve sorted this.” You said.

He nodded — and glanced at your lips, too, before you turned from the mass of dancing bodies.

⤲

It took so long — so long for you to wash the wine out and dry your dress that by the time you returned to the ballroom, some of your intoxication had lifted. You felt clearer, less foggy — and just as ready to dive into the dancing as you were before.

Your lips were still tingling from Dion’s kiss. And the fact that he so readily, so greedily, wanted to kiss you back…you liked it. Felt the undeniable tug of something deep inside you that was thrilling and giddying and beautiful. You wanted more of it. To kiss him again. Feel his big, steady hands clutching you again.

The formation of dancers was far different when you returned. Instead of couples filling the floor, small groups clustered in circles all around the room, their hands joining. You frowned, searching for the brilliant orange hair of your fiance — and felt a warm, gentle hand grab yours.

“There you are,” Dion’s voice filled your ears as he leaned down. “The circle dance is just starting. Come on.”

You turned in his arms, smiling up at him. “The what?”

“A Spring Court dance,” His answering grin was wicked. “You have two circles, see?” He pointed to the group closest to you. “An inner circle and an outer circle.”

Sure enough, inside the ring of dancers — around ten of them joining hands — was another identical one. They each faced the person in front of them.

“The music plays, and one circle dances clockwise while the other dances anti-clockwise,” Dion explained. “And then when the music stops, you have to kiss whoever is in front of you.”

You snorted, smiling up at him – and almost blinked at the dusting of pink creeping up his neck. The way he swallowed hard – nervously, his earlier confidence gone. It warmed your heart, and you knew…knew that your eyes said it all, that they were reassuring. That you were going into it knowing who you wanted to kiss when the music stopped. That you wanted to kiss him again.

“It’s starting.” He smiled, tugging you over to the group. “You join the inner circle, I‘ll join the outer.”

And so you did just that, joining hands with two Spring Court females as Dion stood in position in front of you. And then the music began.

It was like…taking off. You wondered if this was what flying felt like, as you gave over the control in your body and allowed yourself to be pulled into motion. Your surroundings blurred, the speed of the dance picking up with the tempo of the music, and then there was nothing but you and light and music and flashing shapes. You could feel yourself laughing, feel your head falling back in ecstasy as you spun and spun, and you didn’t know how you hadn’t been entirely lifted off your feet — nor did you care. Not as you became the music.

And then as fast as it had taken off, it stopped. The music halted, and you were yanked to a standstill, your head still spinning as you forced your feet to ground you. Your laughter mingled with that of the other dancers.

With that of Dion’s, who had stopped in place before you.

“What a coincidence,” He chuckled deeply, gazing at you as the other partners leaned towards each other.

You snorted, stepping forward. Your hand reached for his, fingers brushing. “That it is.”

That one hand latched onto yours, the other coming to cup your jaw. Dion stared down at you, and he seemed to be…to be nervous, as he swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and released a breath. Because this was different — not the heat of the moment first kiss you’d shared earlier, when no one had paid attention. It felt more naked, somehow, now. Like he was trying to grasp for any scraps of his earlier confidence with people watching — expecting — this kiss.

You smiled reassuringly — communicated, with your eyes, that you wanted this — again. And the room seemed to melt around you.

He leaned down. Pressed his lips to yours. You reached up to touch your free hand to his cheek.

It was a different kiss…to the one you’d shared earlier. Not as passionate or searing, but…soft. Sweet. How you supposed your first kiss should have been, unlike the surging need you’d shared in the middle of the dance floor. Dion’s lips were almost tentative, careful…and maybe it was just because of the many other people around you, or perhaps because you’d sobered up a bit, that it was just…different. Not bad. Different.

But you didn’t care; not as the lightness in you continued. The best you’d felt in weeks. In a year.

You buried your fingers in Dion’s hair, deepening the kiss just slightly—

And he broke away – no, was pulled away, you realised, as he was yanked into a different circle of dancers. Your heart was thudding, mind reeling and cheeks scorching as you touched your fingers to your lips, just managing to dodge out of the way as a Spring Court female tried to tug you closer.

You smiled politely, stepping back. The room was heavy, pressing, and you knew if you didn’t feel the brush of fresh air on you soon, you may just collapse.

“Fresh air.” Was all you explained, before turning on your feet.

You’d already lost sight of Dion completely, the music once again picking up as you wended your way through the sea of bodies, some still dancing, some still kissing – some just talking. You didn’t have a clue where you were going, but the press of cool night air and the sudden influx of floral scents told you that you were headed in the right direction. You turned a corner, pushing through a pair of huge double doors, and found yourself stepping out into the sprawling gardens.

An inky, starry sky bore down on you as you came to a stop on a private patio. A few people milled about, strolling through the hedges, but nobody seemed to care that you were there. It helped you to relax as you pressed your back against the wall, feeling the cold bite of the concrete seeping through your dress.

You gazed up at those stars, breaths still heaving as you smiled to yourself. Tonight had been…fun. The best night you’d had in a while. Perhaps even the best night you’d had since you’d found out you were to be married, over a year ago now. Your mind had been so crowded since that day Barric had come to your family’s estate; crowded and suffocating, with barely any relief.

But tonight had been a relief. Tonight, you’d felt more like yourself than you had in a long time. The feeling was beautiful, familiar, and you were excited to carry on that way, to lean into the euphoria and light you’d craved for so long–

Until someone snorted from beside you.

You started, pushing off the wall. You turned back to the doors to find Lucien leaning against the frame, no longer wearing his mask. He stared at you with an unreadable expression, cocking an eyebrow.

You shrugged. Stared back at him questioningly. “Problem?”

“You know,” He chuckled, stepping out onto the patio, his boots clipping against the concrete, “For someone who claims to not want to be caught with her hand between her legs, you sure seem eager to replace that hand with the first male that walks by.”

You gawked at him.

Gawked at him, and clenched your hands at your side.

You’d barely run into him over the past fortnight. Certainly not shared a word between you, and his glances were sparse and scathing, too.

And yet here he was, mouthing off. Again.

“What did you just say to me?” You demanded.

Lucien shrugged – the picture of ease, as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “I don’t think you need me to repeat myself, Lady.”

“If you have a problem with me kissing my soon-to-be husband,” You snapped, “Perhaps you should peel your eyes away and go annoy someone else. It’s not like we won’t be doing far more than that on our wedding night.”

Lucien snorted again, shaking his head. “At least you know what’s expected of you, I suppose. I see you’ve really thrown yourself into the role.”

You were entirely lost for words as he stared at you, his lips twitching – perhaps to smirk, or perhaps to sneer. You didn’t feel like waiting around to find out – especially not if he seemed hell-bent on ruining your good mood.

So you squared your shoulders and brushed past him.

“How about minding your own damn business, Lucien?” You murmured, and slipped back inside, the warmth enveloping you immediately.

And you didn’t look back to find out which one it was – a smirk or a sneer. Or perhaps both. His eyes remained on your back as you strode away, and something told you that he probably knew–

That for whatever reason, his words got to you far more than they should.

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